Lest Mortals Dare to Dream
by Raven Sinead
Summary: A sequel to "And Treat Our Blood as Gold." What are the limits of the human heart? If a god's true desire is love, can love cause you to sin against that god? A tale of passion and longing, devotion and duty, living and loss. F!Cousland & Leliana pairing. POV switch each chapter. Dialogue all original, story left of canon and time set flying in this, the final tale. Story Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I do not own anything, except a handful of original characters. All the good stuff belongs to Bioware

* * *

**Salem Cousland**

I awoke with a start, looking frantically around the unfamiliar room. It was dark, too dark, and someone stirred beside me in the narrow bed.

_What in hell_? Nightmares caught in my throat and I reached, trembling, for the flint and candle on the nearby stand. _This cannot be…I ended it…I let nothing happen. Why then, am I lying beside another? I do not remember…_

Shaking hands struck the flint and the candle wick caught flame. I took the candle in hand and held it over the figure who lay beside me, sighing in relief as memory returned when I saw the spray of red hair on the single pillow.

_Leliana_, I reached out and smoothed her tangled hair, smiling as I had not smiled in a month. _I remember now. The ship in the harbor, the High Seeker and you…my beautiful wife…holding me in your arms and offering your forgiveness, giving my ring back to me in a re-pledged vow…asking me to stay beside you, when I am undeserving. _

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, massaging the ache from my muscles before I stood and went to the window, pulling back the shade. The moon hung in the sky, beautiful and gleaming, casting her kind light on my lover's sleeping face.

_My lover_, the foreign smile crossed my lips again as I gazed at her face. Even though shadows of exhaustion bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and she was pale from work and worry, I found her radiant, unearthly, transcendent…more than mortal.

Once again I saw the new scar in the center of her lower lip. A small thing, but it troubled me. Her reaction when I had touched it and asked after her health, wondering at the trials she had been through. She had all but collapsed in my arms, speaking in Orlesian…a language of secrets…her language, not mine.

_We have time_, I promised myself, drawing the curtain across the window once more, lest the light wake her. _I will make it so. No matter the conspiracies of men or angels, I will make it so. _

I crept from the room and down the halls of the Amaranthine Chantry, basking in the peace that night alone provided. There were no sounds but the skittering of the odd mouse here and there, and the almost imperceptible footballs of the cat following them, intent on feasting.

_Life continues_, I realized as I moved towards the infirmary that Wynne had helped establish when Vigil's Keep was sacked. _It will always continue. Even when the trials of men are done, even when we are lost to the face of Thedas, I believe that life will go on. It is inevitable. Why then, Maker_, I wondered, _why then do we struggle each day for breath and battle our own hearts and minds? Why is there no peace to be found when all around things continue as they ever have? _

I eased open the infirmary doors, seeking out the white-haired senior enchanter. The fire flickered in the hearth, too low. I strode across the room and added logs, watching them catch flame and further illuminate the room.

"She isn't here." a shy, low, Orlesian accent spoke and I turned, perhaps too quickly.

The young woman in a templar's tunic fled three steps backward, light on her feet, like a dancer. Worried, icy green eyes met mine through a tangle of obsidian hair. Her hands were clenched into fists, as though anticipating violence.

"Who is not here?" I kept my voice gentle.

"The…the elderly mage." she stuttered, her posture easing. "Would I be wrong in my assumption that she is who you seek?"

"No." I smiled, pleased by the stranger's cleverness. "Might I have the pleasure of your name?" I asked, thinking it best to make her acquaintance.

"Kestrel Ariyah." she replied, her posture stiffening to the position of attention. "Templar Private."

"At ease." I extended my hand. "I am the arlessa of Amaranthine. Salem Cousland."

Her rigid posture faltered and surprise lit in her eyes as her mouth fell open. "Ancient gods." she breathed, backing away yet another step. "_The_ Salem Cousland? The Hero of Ferelden? Forgive me, milady, I meant no disrespect…I…I've no idea…the proper greeting to give a noblewoman of your country...or a woman of your considerable status."

"I do not stand on formalities." I kept my hand extended and, at last, she grasped it her own, exerting a brief pressure before withdrawing yet again. "You may call me Salem, if you wish. As a templar, you are somewhat beyond having to bow and scrape before nobility, or am I mistaken?"

"I…I do not know." she answered, seeming still awestruck. "I have not been a templar very long, mila…Salem." she shook her head, as though calling me by my name grated against her better judgment. "But here I stand, like a foolish girl, keeping you from your business. The elder mage departed about a candlemark ago; I've no idea where she went, but I can attempt…"

"There is no need." I lifted my hand, forestalling her offer of help. "You look as though you have not slept in days."

Kestrel shook her head. "I am quite well. Seeker Leliana was quite adamant that I rest."

"_Seeker_ Leliana?" I asked, perhaps a bit too fast, too harsh.

_What has happened in our time apart? _

Kestrel's vivid eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Have I spoken amiss?" she asked. "She told me that you were wed…I…I thought you…"

"Communication between us has been little to non-existent." I reflected back on the nights I had spent wondering where Leliana was, if she had been safe, if she had been afraid, if she had been..._lonely...so terribly, terribly lonely_.

_I do not even know if she received the letter I sent. It would not surprise me if that Cassandra bitch intercepted any attempts at communication with Leliana. _

"It is all right, Kestrel." I spoke, and her expression eased. "You were not to know."

"Forgive me if I seem overly forward," Kestrel stepped closer, still gazing at me as if she did not believe I existed in the waking world. "But…how is she?"

"Sleeping." I said, touched by the young woman's obvious concern for Leliana. "She was quite exhausted, and I am afraid I did little to ease her fatigue. Tell me, Kestrel, if you are not too tired yourself, what transpired that brought you to Amaranthine?"

_Perhaps, in this way, I can ease Leliana's burden. Perhaps I can buy more time for us if I learn as much of what she endured as I can. _

"I do not know if I can relay the tale in its entirety," Kestrel answered. "But I can tell you about the mission, and the battle…Leliana saved us all." admiration was clear in her tone and my heart surged with pride.

_I have no doubt. _

"Regale me." I sat before the fire and gestured to the young templar in invitation.

Kestrel sat and stared into the flames, gathering her thoughts. "Something about the mission was amiss, arlessa." she began, seeming more comfortable with my formal title than my name. "I could sense it from the very beginning…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Leliana**

_The light through the windows is harsh, stark…terrifying. It gleams off of the white marble of the Hall of Justice in Val Royeaux. I walk toward the Divine's throne, hearing the echoes of my footfalls. Voices whisper in my ears, remnants of accents remembered. _

_**I do not understand**_**, **_I continue, driven to move forward, terrified that this dream will bring me what others have…knowledge that I do not want, truths that I cannot endure…__**death. **_

_ The light blinds me yet further and I lift my hand to shield my eyes. My throat is parched, skin dry, as though a desert wind blows against me. I grit my teeth and press forward, determined to see this dream to its end, for good or ill._

_**Though, if I am standing here, in the Divine's Hall of Justice, I cannot imagine that this dream will bring me any sort of comfort. Once, I called Val Royeaux my home. Now, it is a place of torments, both old and new.**_

_As I approach the throne, the excruciating light bursts into a cloying darkness. The voices assailing my ears grow louder, though no more translatable than before. I blink away the darkness, attempting to find something to center myself. _

_ A soft, golden light illuminates the throne and the figure standing there. I remember the waterfall of indigo hair, the glimmering silver eyes filled with ancient wisdom and grief. _

_**Oh no…no no no no no. The Maker? Is this more than simple dream? **_

_ "__What calls to you, my daughter__?" the Maker speaks, and it is not in Salem's voice. _

_ It is a voice that I have heard once before, in my first vision. Waterfalls of grief, flaming torrents of wrath, the deep roar of a dragon intermingled with the deafening crack of a glacier. It is the voice of a god and I fall to my knees, helpless to stand before the deity who has claimed me for her own. _

_ Another shaft of light, this time a brilliant white, drifts down from the ceiling of stars, illuminating the tall, broad-shouldered form of Cassandra Pentaghast, fully outfitted in ceremonial armor. She turns to me and smirks, her full, crimson lips quirking upward in a look of utter disdain._

"_The righteous stand before the darkness, and the Maker shall guide their hand." she intones, her solemn Nevarran accent grating against my ears. "Did you not once say these words, Leliana? Did you not once believe them? I am the righteous in the face of unfathomable darkness, and you have shown me nothing but enmity."_

_**Cassandra? What in the name of all creation is this? **__I look to the Maker, hoping for illumination, for clarity, but her unnerving eyes betray no emotion, and look nowhere other than my countenance. _

_ "You would consider yourself righteous?" I ask Cassandra. "You, who would have let your companions die, all for the sake of a __**mission debriefing!**__ In what world is that righteousness!?__"_

_ "Tell me." Cassandra orders. "Once, you followed the words of the Chant of Light. You clung to Andraste's wisdom and your heart led you accordingly. You showed grace unto the poor, mercy unto the fainthearted, provided succor unto the ill, but never did you sacrifice more than was mandated, as is the Maker's wish. And now you have forsaken this path, and for what, Leliana? What has turned you from your faith?"_

_**Is that true? **__I wondered, letting my eyes fall through my memories of my past.__** Could such terms describe me, in truth? **__**So clinical…so cold…only giving what was demanded, and no more? Living according to a set of words penned and spoken by a woman who…who…failed? Surely…surely I was more…I remember my time at the Lothering Chantry as peaceful…was that because I did not truly **__**live**_**_?_**

_ "I have." another pillar of light, cold and blue, falls from the sky. _

_ It shines down on the form of a broken woman. Her wrists are chained with blood-colored steel, the crimson chains staked into the floor. She is dressed in rags, her body a latticework of scars in variegated hues._

_**Salem…**_

_ She looks so pale, so tormented, her strong, free spirit locked in a body that is chained to the ground, chained to her tainted blood. The scars on her body bear witness to the gravity of her sacrifice…all others would find her disfigured, ugly, but I…__**I have seen her endure every wound. I know their cause and their reason…and she is **__**beautiful. **_

_ "The creature speaks?" Cassandra laughs, a bitter, harsh sound that echoes in the black austerity. _

_ Still the Maker says nothing, standing between my heart and my duty, seeming oblivious to both. My skin seems to burn from the heated gaze of her eyes. _

_ "I am the answer to your question." Salem replies, her voice low and pained. "I am the one who turned Leliana from her faith."_

_**What!? No! Salem Cousland, seal your lips! You have done nothing but **__**affirm**__** my faith! You have done nothing but sacrifice, give of yourself, fight for those who do not have the way or the will, and you have taught me to do the same…**__realization strikes me like a blow to the face. __**Against all mandates set down by the Chant of Light. Maker's breath…Andraste's gospel is…**__**cruel**__._

_ "At least you have the grace to not deny your crimes." Cassandra smiles, and it is that of a predator. She turns her cinnamon eyes to me, and they spark with a fanatical light. A light that once shone in my own gaze. "This is where you stand, Leliana. In the darkness, torn between the righteous, who trust the Maker to guide their hands, and that twisted abomination of magic and darkness who has stepped beyond our Maker's grace. Whom shall you choose, Leliana?"_

_ I scrutinize the High Seeker. Her armor gleams, spit and polish, her bearing is impeccable, her profile noble. Every hair lies in place, smooth and shimmering like silk. She is everything that I once desired; all that once I aspired to. Grandeur, beauty, the trappings of importance. _

_ I look once again to Salem, her battered body, the death sentence that she carries in her veins. She smells of copper, salt, and smoke…the scents of battle and death. Her hair is tousled and unkempt, her clothing the rags she mended a hundred times during the Blight. But her eyes are not the cold, metallic gleam of Cassandra's. There is such pain in the mesmerizing silver-blue, stories of hardships and scars and terrors unknown to man. Eclipsing that is her love…ever has it dwelt there, stronger than her swords, larger than her presence, more indomitable than her spirit. _

_**Love.**__ I caress Salem with my eyes; heart breaking as I realize I cannot free her from those crimson chains. __**Duty.**__ I look back to Cassandra, the height of pride, the pinnacle of greatness…the Maker's chosen Seeker. _

_ I look to the god who stands between then, daring to meet those silver eyes with my own. _

_ "__What calls to you, my daughter__?" she asks again and I clap my hands over my ears, basking in the beauty of her voice even as the power of it causes me pain. _

_ "You would give me the choice?" I ask, eyes torn between the triumvirate that splits my devotions. "You would ask me to choose between the woman who drew your eyes to me and the woman who stands for all that is goodness and truth, but who lives her life in a way that is reprehensible!? Moreover, would you even grant my desires, should I choose against your will!?"_

_ "__Is that not what humans have ever clung to?__" the Maker questions, not unkind. "__The hope of choice? Free will? Would you wish me to choose for you, Leliana of Ferelden?__"_

_**No!**__ I scream, knowing that she can hear my thoughts. __**A thousand hells of no. But…**__panic infuses me as my eyes dart from Salem to Cassandra in an ever increasing frenzy…__**never have I been in control of my own life. How can I make this choice…**_

_ "I," Salem speaks and I watch her as she falls to her knees, brought low by her ever-tightening chains, "I will not fault you, dear heart. Follow the mandates of your heart. None shall take the power of choice from you," she repeats the words that she screamed at Cassandra the night the High Seeker came for me, "not even me."_

_ "What shall it be, Leliana?" Cassandra demands, imperious, so different from Salem's gentle forgiveness. _

_**I…**__I sink to my knees, confused and pained and so very, very afraid…__**I do not know…**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Salem**

"I…I knew that Leliana was…different." Kestrel continued her story. It had begun with her assignation to a strange squad of suspect templars. "The very moment I met her. Seekers tend to ignore mere templars, arlessa, no matter that they once wore the same livery and swung the same swords. Anyhow, we had been summoned on deck to train." a slight smile quirked her lips as she stared into the fire, her speech the sole thing that acknowledged my presence. "And Leliana just…she walked over and started _talking_ to Sergeant Alan. It was as though…as though she _saw_ us…as more than mere rank and file soldiers."

"I am well aware." I, too, looked into flames, remembering my bard's gentle gaze from across the campfire, the knowledge that she could sense the pain that weighed upon me…and sought to understand it.

Kestrel's pale cheeks turned pink with a demure blush and she shook her head. "Of course you would be. Do forgive me…"

"No need for such things." I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder, wincing as she flinched, feeling further sorrow as her eyes widened at the sight of skin that was more scar tissue than flesh. "Please, continue."

"O…Of course." Kestrel's eyes would not leave my hand, so I removed it, freeing her speech. "We kept up a pretense at training, but all of us were wondering what manner of Seeker would speak to a templar in a comradely fashion. And then Rylie," Kestrel's gaze darted over to a young woman who slept on a cot nearby, and the templar's face softened. "Rylie caught her name and demanded to know if she was _the_ Leliana who defeated High Seeker Cassandra in single combat."

_Leliana fought the High Seeker? _I filed the question away to ask later, preferring to hear Leliana's account, and to know precisely what further treatment Cassandra warranted.

"She was…" Kestrel smiled again, a young woman's admiration for a hero. That she smiled in such a manner for Leliana made my heart ache with love. "…so humble. Humble as I have never seen. She did not even take credit for the victory." Kestrel shook her head in disbelief. "Instead, she attributed it to you."

"To me?" I asked, surprised. "Leliana's skill is unmatched. I pale in comparison."

Kestrel's eyebrows creased in confusion. "You are not at all how the stories portray you." she blurted, lifting a hand to her mouth in shock as I threw my head back and laughed.

"Pray tell," I managed between chuckles, "what madness…these stories portray?"

"They speak of a hero made of iron and fire," Kestrel's eyes lit with excitement. "A woman who marched off to battle and faced down a god with no fear in her heart, that stood against death without a tremor. They even say that you defeated a high dragon, singlehanded and _blind_, no less! The tales…" her countenance darkened, "…tell of a rigid, unyielding force. A noblewoman's proud eyes that could look upon a battlefield and show no grief. They…they say you are callous, and cold…not a woman who would attribute greater skill to another, even one that she loved."

I sobered as I listened to a stranger's judgment, admiring her for her honesty, as she seemed cowed by my presence. _But given the iron ferocity of my supposed and circulated reputation, it is little wonder. _

"There were times," I admitted, "when I fit that exact description. There is a time when heartlessness is called for. There is a time when ruthlessness is necessary." I hung my head, filled with regret. "But never did I depart from grief. Never did I forget the blood on my hands, or revel in the terrible necessity that fate placed upon me."

Kestrel's eyes softened. "There is such a light in Leliana's eyes when she speaks of you. I could not place the woman of the legend and the woman she described beside each other…but now I see the truth of it. I can see the strength described in the legends…but it is not Cassandra's strength, a brutality and fierce determination. Yours is…calm, measured…I had never imagined that strength could be so gentle."

_Is this…is this how I truly appear? Or is this the portrait that Leliana painted for her? I am…I am not a harsh woman by any means, but I have been hardened. Leliana has seen me forswear gentility and give myself over to wrath; she has seen my moments of doubt and darkness and hatred. Even still, she sees me through eyes of absolute love…absolute forgiveness…_

"Yes." Kestrel grinned, at last meeting the scars in my eyes, and not looking away. "That same light shines in your gaze when I speak of her. Most of the templar order bear no love toward Cassandra Pentaghast, but being here…bearing witness to this, the beauty that she sundered…there is a darker part of my heart that wishes you had killed her on the ship."

"Is there that much ill will towards her?" I wondered, knowing that my reasons were personal, but Kestrel was a young, raw recruit. Surely she would not have similar reason to despise Cassandra.

"More now than from the mission's outset." Kestrel returned to her tale. "We were sent to investigate the island where rogue mages from Orlais had fled after attacking the Divine herself. The mages had overwhelmed and taken captive the scout ship that was awaiting our forces. They attacked us at sea…an abomination was aboard the ship. If it had not been for Lieutenant Kathyra's absolute trust in Leliana, the templars would have faced the attack unarmed and unarmored. Cassandra was too ignorant to believe the warning. The lieutenant nearly died…so did Rylie."

"And it was Cassandra's ignorance of circumstance that earned her your wrath?" I inquired, seeing a peace in Kestrel that seemed at odds with her vitriolic words and the disdain present on her countenance.

"No." Kestrel's hands clenched into fists. "After the battle, after _Leliana_ destroyed the abomination, Cassandra ordered that the ship return to Orlais. A three day sail…during which time, the wounded would have died. The lieutenant was the sole physician on board…"

"What transpired that brought you here?" I asked.

"Seeker Leliana knocked Cassandra unconscious and ordered Sergeant Alan to lock her in the hold." Kestrel smiled, the desperate mirth of a soldier attempting to find _some_ light to cling to. "She told the ship's captain to sail to Amaranthine and she saved Kathyra and Rylie's lives."

_My Leliana_, tears struck my eyes and I wiped them away before they fell. _So beautiful, so hesitant when I met you…now I hear tales of __**you**__ that rival legends of old. Maker's breath, you are…you are simply unfathomable, dear heart. _

"Leliana is more a healer than she will ever know." I whispered, reverent, remembering my wife's hands as she stitched my skin together, as she delved into the dungeons of her nightmares and carried me into freedom. "Thank you, Kestrel, for telling me."

"I know it is not my place, Arlessa Cousland, but I feel these words in my heart, and fear I will be remiss if I do not speak them."

"Feel free." I offered, though my heart sank.

"Leliana…she is my friend, my hero, and your wife…but her destiny is meant for greater things. Greater things than what the Chantry would use her for. Greater things than…" she sealed her lips and shook her head, unable to say more.

I understood. I understood what she could not say. _Greater things than the love of a simple woman from a simple country. You are right, Kestrel. I have known…I have known from the moment a vision from God himself stole her from my side on our wedding night. Leliana is more than human, more than mortal, not a soul that any human being could contain or cling to. _

"Greater things than a mortal love." I answered, accepting the truth of the young templar's words. "I understand. If you will allow me, Kestrel, I must take my leave. I…I made Leliana a promise; I would not have her wake without me there."

"Forgive me if I have overstepped…" Kestrel's apology trailed away.

"Never apologize for the truth." I turned to her and smiled, concealing my pain from her youth, and what remained of her innocence. "Leliana would tell you the same."

I walked down the dark hallway, back to the room that housed the woman who held my heart. My last love.

_Perhaps it is a kinder twist of fate that has brought you here, Leliana. _my thoughts whispered. _Perhaps it is so that you and I might share a proper farewell…before you leave me to my shadows…and go into your glory. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Leliana**

The soft sound of a door closing forced my eyes open. My hands cast about on the bed, searching for the hilt of weapons I did not carry. I waited for the tilting of the floor, the gentle sound of water slapping against the hull of the ship, the distinctive snap of canvas sails catching the wind.

_Nothing. _

The fire in the hearth had dimmed, leaving a glowing bed of coals that served to illuminate the silhouette of the intruder. My body tensed, preparing for a confrontation. The slight rustle of sheets grated in my hearing, as loud as though I had clashed cymbals together.

"Did I wake you, dear heart?" Salem's soft, rough voice spun across the room, covering me in a sense of relief and calm that I had not experienced for…_too long. Far too long. _

At the sight of her, the sound of her, the horror of my dream washed over me and tears welled in my eyes of their own volition.

"Leliana?" she moved to the bedside and my heart cracked as I noticed her slight limp, the weariness present in her energy. "Leliana, are you all right?"

The mattress lowered beneath her weight and something good and pure and _right_ in my world solidified as she wrapped her arm about my waist and guided my head onto her shoulder. Try as I might, I could not quell the tremors the racked me, the terrible, lingering fear that I had known; the horror of my own indecision as I stood before both Salem Cousland, Cassandra Pentaghast, and the Maker of life…unable to move my lips or steer my feet in one ascertainable direction.

"I am…quite disoriented." I whispered into her skin, thinking the words paltry in comparison to the tumult in my spirit and soul. "For a moment, I thought I was still aboard ship…"

"I understand." Salem replied, words that she spoke to me so often, so often that one might consider it a platitude. But never from her. I _knew_ in my soul that she truly was the _one_ who could understand, no matter the circumstance placed before her. "This all seems so very surreal."

"I am afraid to wake up." I admitted. "For this seems to be the sweetest of dreams, one that I have not dared indulge in. To feel you near me, to hear your voice…all things I have longed for and been denied, even in the capriciousness of the Fade."

"It would seem that no world is kind to us." her callused fingers stroked through my hair, soothing me as none other had ever been able to do. "Whether waking or dreaming…I tire of the torment, I tire of the uncertainty."

"Is anything certain?" I wondered aloud, able at last to share my fears and insecurities, able at last to bare my soul to the woman who stripped her masks off for me alone. The woman who had given back to me my own name, my own face, my own identity.

_Here, in the shelter of your arms and your understanding, I am safe. Here, I can simply be Leliana, with no visions, no promises made, and no guilt held over me for my weakness and inconsistency. _

"At least one thing is certain." Salem spoke, and her fingers brushed over my cheekbone, gathering my tears and keeping them safe, keeping them secret, holding them in sacred trust. "I love you as I have never loved before, and as I will never love again."

Despite the peace that washed over me with her declaration, despite the absolute _need_ I had to hear those words repeated, again and again unto time eternal…I could not help but notice the regret in her voice, the hint of her ever-present dark thoughts.

_How is it, my Maker,_ _that speaking of love can be such a grievous burden? That regret can stain words of passion, and taint sweet moments with the ominous unknown of the future? _

"Your thoughts stray once more into darkness, my warden." I breathed, speaking words that we had so often shared during the Blight, that were second nature to our hearts and minds.

"I am surrounded by your light," Salem answered, a note of resignation and long-suffering in her voice that I had _never_ heard from her…even when she faced death at the top of Fort Drakon. "I am immolated by your radiance. I am burning alive, Leliana…my thoughts have nowhere to go but darkness…out of self-preservation, if nothing else."

"Can nothing be simple?" I thought aloud, asking questions of the universe, of the Maker, of my wife. "I am torn betwixt the peace and pleasantness of my silence with you, yet I feel the need to reveal everything…and yet the words claw at my throat and leave me bleeding and mute, for I have no wish to cause you more pain…and yet pain is all we seem to bring to each other. We…we had barely…we had barely begun to discover ourselves without it…and that time has ended."

"I know." she pressed her lips to my hair, a simple, comforting gesture that brought tears to my eyes yet again. "I do not think that a destiny free from sorrow has been written for us. And I grieve daily for that, dear heart. I wanted nothing more than to provide you with a life of comfort and joy, where the both of us could live simple lives, be simple women…"

"The desires of love and the beauty of passion." I whispered, thinking once again of the legends I had memorized, of the happiness depicted in their ever after…how gods and fate all saw to it that justice was done, and that those who loved knew peace at the end of conflict. "Would that the stories could be true. That heroes of legend truly did enter on their own reward at the end of the battle."

"And what tales are there that feature heroes such as us?" Salem asked, a smile in her voice. "I am more scars than skin, old before my time, and you have come up from ignominy, through villainy, into divinity. No, dear heart. The tales end happily because they are simply that…tales. And should our legend ever be written, I am certain that the author will find us together at the end of time, in each other's arms, with no further cares or burdens."

"But that is not the truth of the world, no matter how much we might wish it so." I curled further into her arms, needing her touch, the solid strength of her body encompassing mine. "The bards and minstrels of the world tell of the majesty of love, its immutability and strength, its determination to slog through trial and see the end where at last, it is allowed to be free."

"That is not love." Salem shook her head. "It is majesty, yes, immutable, strong, determined…but it is also a tacit agreement between one and their own soul. To give over everything that is in their heart, to surrender themselves to whatever terror might come, to whatever horror might arise, to place their entire spirit into the hands of fickle fate. Love is a contract of suffering and blood…and who would wish to write of that, or to speak of it to the young. You are right, Leliana. We have brought each other little else but pain…but therein is the comfort and purity of love. The acceptance of pain, the forgiveness of transgressions, the reconciliation of two hearts wounded and mended time and again. There is such a horror as pain without love…but never can there exist a love without pain. They are one and the same…the only guarantees in our ever changing existence."

The eloquent tragedy of her words struck a chord in me and I looked into her eyes, seeing the scars therein, perfect mirrors of what she had spoken. The truth of Salem Cousland. The blue and silver of her gaze held pain, torment, and death…but never had I witnessed eyes that held as boundless a love as hers.

"I wish your hands had never known a sword." I reached up and pressed my fingertips to the indigo and scarlet scar on her cheek. "You should…" tears poured down my face as I thought of the beauty that should have been hers, the peace, the tranquility, the ability to use her eloquence to elevate hearts and minds…not solve the petty arguments of the world, or shout a battle cry. "You should have been…"

"I am what I have become." she pressed her lips to my forehead. "The 'should' does not exist any longer. And what I am, in this moment, is a woman who longs to hold you, to keep the pain of revelation at bay for but a few moments longer, to savor the surrealistic quality of what I continue to pray is not a dream."

_Yes!_ my heart rejoiced, wanting the same things, _needing_ as she needed, _longing_ as she longed. Salem lay down beside me and folded me into her arms, ghosting her lips across my neck.

"I love you."

I pressed myself against her, needing her to shield me...to forsake the world, to turn our backs on fate and destiny, kings and edicts. To impart comfort to one another, allowing the wounds of separation to mend…

…_before the wounds of reunion are inflicted. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Salem**

Light began to creep in through the drawn curtain and I sighed, hating that time moved ever forward, in spite of the heart's longing for it to freeze in place. Leliana turned and burrowed her head into my shoulder, sighing in contentment, even though she had fallen asleep shortly after we had lain down together.

I brushed my thumb over the scar on her lower lip, unable to put the matter from my mind. Small, white, and even, as though long-healed, as though it had been present her entire life. _But it is…wrong, somehow. This is not a wound made by a fist or a blade…more of a carefully placed burn. _

I moved my hand and tucked the stray strands of red hair behind her ear, wanting her stories of the past, what had happened in the time we had been separate. I wanted them no matter the pain that would be caused, no matter the injuries inflicted.

_I know your fate, dear heart. Inasmuch as you knew mine at the top of Fort Drakon, I feel that I know yours now. You are no longer mine. You belong to the Maker, to the world, to all souls who have had their hope tried and tested to its limits. You will become for them what you have ever been for me, a beacon of salvation, a promise of peace restored to the land. _

_ But who_, a solitary tear slipped down my cheek, _who will know me when you are no longer here? Who will understand my nightmares and speak wisdom when my heart ventures into inescapable darkness? How selfish am I, Leliana, that I wish your light for myself when it is strong enough to illuminate all of Thedas? I am weary of begging for strength, begging for acceptance, crawling to the Maker's table for the scraps he would throw me…you are my everything, Leliana. You are my everything, and soon you will be gone, and I will be alone again, struggling to live for another chance meeting, fighting against the time left to me so that I might dream of you. _

"But I love you enough." I whispered to her soft, untroubled countenance. "I love you enough to let you go…I always have."

_It is my curse…the terrible knowledge that Howe's night of butchery gave me. To hold all things loose, so that the heart does not wither and die when they are taken. _

A soft knock rapped at the door and I pulled away from Leliana, cushioning her head on the pillow and slipping from the bed as silent as possible. I padded to the door in bare feet, opening it and smiling as Wynne beckoned me out with the quirk of a finger.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, stepping into the hall and easing the door closed behind me.

"Come with me, child." Wynne answered, cryptic, leading me down the hall and into another room, an exact mirror of the lodging Leliana had been given.

Cassandra lay on the bed, her long raven hair askew on the pillow, her face bruised and swollen from the blows I had dealt her. She shifted and moaned, her hand coming to rest on her ribs, even though she did not wake.

"Well?" I turned to the senior enchanter, wondering why she had brought me here.

"Look at her, Salem." Wynne said, in the harsh, reprimanding tone that I remembered from our travels together. "She has a concussion, fractured ribs, bruised muscles and bones, internal bleeding. None of it life-threatening, mind you, but _you_ must understand, warden, that as a healer, it chafes against my very nature to let this damage lie untreated."

My hands clenched into fists as I gazed upon the High Seeker, feeling that she had not yet paid for her crimes against the one I loved.

"Then why not defy my orders?" I asked Wynne. "It is not as though the notion is foreign to you."

Wynne smiled and patted my arm. "True though that may be, I sense there is something deeper at work here than a simple dislike of this woman. I have not seen you so enraged since we faced Howe in his estate."

I gritted my teeth as Wynne reminded me of the moment when I had indulged my darker heart, slicing at the man's body piece by piece, stealing his penance in blood…until a stronger hand and heart had stopped me. Until a voice whose cadence I could never deny had called me back to reality, reminding me that I believed in mercy and justice, that I had been wronged before, and never been so cruel.

"I know you are desperate to impart some earth shattering truth, old woman." I spoke, teasing. "Pray enlighten me."

"I am worried for you, Salem." Wynne spoke. "You are obviously troubled and tormented, and I am forced to wonder if you have doomed this young woman to at least a month of recovery and pain…passive aggressive torture, as it were."

I sighed, considering the mage's assessment of my treatment of Cassandra Pentaghast. "This is the High Seeker of the Chantry." I informed Wynne. "The second most powerful woman in all of Thedas; the right hand of the Divine."

"All the more reason for me to question you in this matter." Wynne narrowed her eyes and her lips turned downward. "Why are you antagonizing such a powerful enemy? Why did you raise your hand against her from the first?"

Heat burned behind my eyes and I pursed my lips. "She harmed the one I love." I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. "And, to hear one of the young templars tell the tale, she would have let the wounded die after the battle that brought them here. I cannot countenance such fierce uncaring being let loose in this world…not while there are those who need time to recover."

"Not while Leliana is within Amaranthine?" Wynne asked, a cunning light in her watery blue eyes.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. "Am I not allowed to be selfish in the least?" I asked the mage, feeling drained of all energy. "Am I not allowed to cherish what little joy is granted me? How many times, Wynne? How many times must I pay the price?"

"I do not understand what you reference." Wynne shook her head. "You could allow me to heal her and keep her sedated if you wish to remain undisturbed by her presence."

"No." I hissed, fierce. "No. Cassandra has cause enough to hate me as it is. My orders will leave her weakened and wounded, and that is as it should be. If I allowed you to heal her, then let you inflict _anything_ else upon her person, she would have cause to harm you, and by extension the Ferelden Circle. Her reach is far…and I would see no more of my loved ones touched by that…that…whatever in hell she professes to be."

Wynne chuckled. "You are a never ceasing conundrum, Salem Cousland." she smiled. "That much has not changed. 'How many times must I pay the price,' you ask, and yet you have set events in motion that you be the _only_ one to bear the cost of her ire when she wakes. My question for you, child, is why do you persist in allowing yourself the ability to embrace only danger and pain?"

I stared at her, struck mute, and she laughed.

"Those eyes of yours are transparent, as ever they have been." she explained. "And the consistency I see in them alarms me. From the moment I met you at Ostagar, you have ever flung yourself against enemies and blades with abandon, turning away those who would comfort, aid, or take their share of the burden. It amazes me beyond comprehension that you allowed the bard to love you…even though you still insisted on sacrificial actions beyond reckoning. What is it that drives such behavior, Salem? Why is it that when the war is ended, you still insist on placing yourself in the path of every blow, even unto angering, as you said, the second most powerful woman in Thedas?"

I hung my head, remembering these same accusations leveled against me by Leliana in the Frostback mountains. The pain that I had caused her…the pain that made her flee my side. The pain that might separate us yet again.

"I am afraid, Wynne." I admitted, letting the shame of my truth shine through. "I am afraid of losing what little I have. It is why…it is why I have only ever given of myself. I will place none in danger when I can mitigate it. I will let no one be wounded when my blood can be shed. It is my fear of loss that drives me to this level of madness. To place anyone in chains, even if they would be willing to accept them, is anathema to me. And joy is so soon stolen from me…I chose to live." I turned away from Cassandra, unable to witness my weakness written in the bruises on her skin. "I chose to live, and my reason was stripped from me…I tried, Wynne," the desperation in my voice chilled me. "I tried. I told Leliana that I would forsake my name and title and forego all responsibility, against _my very nature_, if she would only stay with me. But…out of love…out of a wish for my happiness…she left."

"She loves you, Salem." Wynne stated, succinct, simple, but devastating. "Leliana would do anything for you."

"Except stay." my dread of the future presented itself. "And she is well within her rights to leave. Those templars, the sailors," I gestured outside of the room with a desperate wave of my hand, "look to her as a savior and a hero. She is all of those things, Wynne. I have…" another heart-rending truth tore from my lips and I shuddered, "…I have served my purpose in her life."

Wynne placed her weathered, wrinkled hand to my cheek, a motherly gesture, and the warmth of her skin burned. "As her savior? As her hero?" the senior enchanter asked, and I nodded. "That purpose is never truly served in its entirety. If you have the courage to ask, Salem, I am certain that Leliana will tell you a far more interesting version of the truth than you would relay to yourself. It will not be easy to hear, but I suggest that you listen."

"I will." I promised, remembering my own words to Leliana. That love without pain could not exist, and that the truth between two souls was so often the cause of that pain. I breathed deep and looked to Cassandra. "And what will you do about her?"

"I will keep in accordance with your wishes, as ever I have done." Wynne patted me on the shoulder. "Your sacrifices have preserved all of Thedas…in this Age, only a fool would countermand you."

"If ever such a fool was born, dearest Wynne, it would be you." I overacted a grimace as the mage struck the back of my head.

"You are incorrigible, arlessa." she smiled. "A courier arrived for you this morning, from Vigil's Keep, leaving a letter for you with the Revered Mother. I suggest you tend to your duties, as I shall tend to mine."

"Thank you, Wynne." I opened the door. "If business calls me away, please inform Leliana that I will return by sunset."

"Of course." Wynne made a shooing gesture with her hands. "Keep care of yourself, my dear."

"As ever I have."

"That gives me _no_ comfort, Salem." the mage frowned, and I parried it with a smile, which faded as I closed the door and sought out the Revered Mother's offices.

_It gives me no comfort either, dearest Wynne. No comfort at all. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Leliana**

The sun pried open my eyelids and I smiled as I stretched out on the bed, warmed by the memory of strong, scarred arms wrapping around me, a roughened voice whispering words of love.

_Paradise_, I thought as I rose from the bed, washed my face, combed my hair, and dressed in the loose linen pants and shirt that someone had left for me. _I am in Paradise. No matter the darkness to come, the choices that will inevitably threaten to shatter all ties that bind, I am…I am __**happy**_.

I opened the door and stole through the hallways, smiling a greeting to the lay sisters in their robes, remembering my time spent in the Lothering cloister.

_The beautiful structure of each day. First, morning prayer, then the afternoon spent doing various tasks, either cleaning the Chantry, tending to the gardens, going amongst the village, aiding the injured, the sick, and the poor. Then, evening devotion and a candlemark of private meditation before slumber. It was a pleasant routine, so pleasant, in fact, that I did not realize that I was dying, little by little, each day. _

_ So focused was I on denying what I had been, that I did not realize that it had a place in my identity. These women_, I entered the infirmary and offered a soft greeting to the healers, _they have been called to this. They are fulfilled here. I am not such a one. _

I moved to the back, eager to see how my friends had fared through the evening. A sweet sight arrested me and I stopped, content for the moment to watch. Rylie lay on a cot, propped up with pillows, her chestnut curls tangled around her too-pale face. But her lips were quirked in a smile and her hand idly stroked through Kestrel's obsidian tresses while her black eyes glowed with the twisted, tangled majesty of love.

The mage templar slept in what had to be the most uncomfortable of positions, her legs curled beneath her, her back hunched, her head pillowed on her arms on Rylie's cot.

I stepped closer and Rylie looked up, breaking into a wider smile. _Incorrigible, _I mused, thinking of Kestrel's shy, reserved manner. _Love between such separate souls. Something so beautiful and rare __**must**__ be the Maker's true design for this world. _

"How are you, Leliana?" she asked, her voice a shadow of its normal volume.

"Mercifully rested." I grinned and sat down beside her. "You?"

Rylie shifted and winced, careful not to disturb Kestrel's rest. "My chest feels like a forge." she grinned, irrepressible. "But with Kes forcing me to eat and drink and sleep, I'm well on my way to a complete recovery."

I smiled at the mage-templar. "I am glad to hear that." I said. "She was quite worried for you."

"She wore herself out looking after me." Rylie's lips trembled. "I tried to get her to sleep, but she wouldn't leave my side all night. She finally drifted off…going to hurt like hell when she wakes up though."

"I can remedy that." I winked at the young templar, moved to the other side of the cot, and lifted Kestrel in my arms.

She remained asleep, dead to the world, as I carried her to a nearby pallet. I placed a gentle kiss on her brow as I covered her with a blanket, praying that the Maker would see her love, her devotion, and keep her and her life-threatening secret in divine care.

"Thank you." Rylie whispered, lifting her hand to cover a yawn.

"You should get some rest." I told her, tucking the blankets around her legs as her eyelids fluttered.

"Going to…" she yawned again, "…sleep my life away." she relaxed against the pillows. "You should…talk to the lieutenant." she muttered, half asleep. "She cried out for you…last night."

_What?_ the news unsettled me as I rose from Rylie's side and moved to a cot that had been placed out of the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Kathyra lay there, her eyes closed, her ash-blonde hair in her face. Her skin still held a dangerous pallor, but it heartened me to see a tinge of color in her cheeks and that her lips were no longer bloodless. I knelt down beside her and took her hand, relieved as I felt her skin warm and dry. Her eyelids jerked and fluttered open, and her eyes, that stunning deep green with golden flecks, lit as she met my gaze.

"You…" she rasped, her accent thick with sleep, "…all right?"

Her ridiculous inquiry caught me off guard and I laughed, muffling the sound against my hand so that I did not wake the injured still resting. "Am I all right?" I asked. "You were at death's door not a day ago and you are asking after me?"

"I…had nightmares." Kathyra mumbled, still bleary and possibly drugged. "Cass…threatening you…hitting you. You were…so tired…couldn't have fought back."

"I am fine." I assured her, tucking her lank hair behind her ear, wincing as I realized that she..._and myself, if I am to be honest..._was in desperate need of a bath. "You needn't worry. Focus your strength on recovering. How are you feeling, Kathyra? Are you in any pain?"

"No." she shook her head in small movements, creasing the pillow. "I still cannot manage a deep breath, but I no longer feel as though I am drowning."

"I am glad." I rested my palm against her forehead, relieved to find her temperature normal. "I am sorry I gambled with your life, Kathyra. Had there been any other option…"

"You saved me." the physician interrupted, voice hoarse, with emotion or pain I could not tell. "You, whom I have wronged, saved my life when the woman with whom I have traveled for three years and considered my friend would have let me die in slow, agonizing torture. So do not apologize." her green eyes pierced me. "Do not dare."

"As you say." I smiled as the words reminded me of Salem. Salem who was _here_. Salem who was _alive_. Salem who _loved_ me.

Kathyra's fingers reached out and brushed the angry red welt on my cheek. "What…was this…was I not dreaming?"

"Cassandra struck me." I informed her, taking her hand before it could clench in anger she need not embrace. "And would most likely have drawn blood, had Salem not stopped her."

Kathyra smiled, and I could hear the laughter that she did not voice. "That…damnable…warden." she coughed lightly and I took the nearby cup of water and held it to her lips. She swallowed and smiled. "I would...very much like to thank her."

"I will insist on a proper introduction as soon as I can locate her." I promised, wondering what cause Salem had to leave our bed.

_Our bed_, I remembered her arms around me, her lips against my hair, the soothing beat of her heart. _**Our**__ life…my dream…do we actually stand the chance for a life together? After all that has happened, it seems impossible, but who am I to say it cannot be so…_

"Did she…kill Cass?" Kathyra asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked at me.

"No." I shook my head. "Beat her within an inch of her life, but did not kill her."

"Then the tales of the warden's great mercy are true." Kathyra stared at the ceiling, a faraway emotion in her eyes that I could not place. "I do not think I would have stayed my hand, had Cassandra harmed you."

"Nonsense." I comforted, though my soul felt uneasy at the heat in the physician's eyes. "You would do no such thing. You are far too sensible."

She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes, and for the first time her gaze resembled Marjolaine's. I shivered a little. "I have killed for less." she whispered.

I squeezed her hand. "We are not those people any longer, Kathyra."

"You are right." she sighed, seeming to relinquish something dear to her as she exhaled. "It would seem we have those who have purchased our salvation in blood." Kathyra's eyes searched mine. "Is she still paying, Leliana?" her voice slurred as her eyelids closed. "Is…your warden…still paying…for your freedom?"

The question stunned me and I drew back, wanting to ask the physician what she had meant, but unwilling to stir her from a healing slumber.

_What is the meaning of that question? _I wondered, worrying the edge of my lip with my teeth. _My life is my own, Salem has told me as much and yet…yet I sense a truth in Kathyra's words that troubles me. Salem bought my freedom from Marjolaine…with blood. She bought my freedom in Howe's dungeons…with blood. She bought my peace at the top of Fort Drakon…with blood. Maker's breath…has this not ended for her? This cycle of love and danger and pain…for my sake?_

The thought terrified me and I walked out of the infirmary, seeking someone who could tell me where Salem had gone. I had to know…I had to know if the hurt I had witnessed in her eyes, her eloquent, impassioned declarations of love mingled with pain…had been because I had done nothing but consistently show her that definition of love.

_Have I ever bled for her?_ I wondered as the door of the Chantry opened and Salem entered, her energy crackling with tension and what might have been fury. Her flaming eyes lit on me and softened as she moved forward, purpose in her stride.

"Salem…" I began, but she silenced me with a quick, frightening kiss.

"I have to go, Leliana." she spoke. "I haven't time to explain and I do apologize, but a matter has arisen that needs immediate tending."

"What…" I trailed off as she thrust a folded parchment in my hand and turned on her heel, exiting through the still open door.

I held the parchment in trembling hands, still attempting to recover from the onslaught of her vicious, anxious energies.

_I do not wish to see what lies within_, I eyed the foreign seal stamped in blood red wax. _The written word has done nothing but bring me pain…but why, Salem?_

"I take it you spoke to Salem?" Wynne entered from the opposite corridor. I nodded, mute.

The senior enchanter wrapped her arm around my waist and guided me out of the foyer. "Come, child. We have much to discuss…including the contents of that letter."


	7. Chapter 7

**Salem**

_Damn it!_ I cursed as I all but ran down the Chantry steps. _Damn it into hell!_ I loosened my horse's reins from the hitching post, grabbed the pommel, and swung myself into the saddle. I did not allow the horse even a moment to adjust to my weight before I dug my heels into its sides and galloped out of the city.

The letter Wynne had informed me of had been forwarded to Amaranthine by Varel. It had been delivered there yesterday, a courier sent by Ser Tamra…

…_while the identities of those who would see you dead have been deciphered, suspicion abounds and I can trust no one. _I replayed the words she had written in my thoughts as the wind whipped at me. _I have informed a man of a…shadowy nature…of the information that I cannot disclose to you in writing. Seek out Ser Wolf of Rivain in Amaranthine, and mention my name to him. He will tell you what you need to know. Maker's blessings upon you, Arlessa Cousland. I hope we have not been too late. _

I had sought out the mysterious "Ser Wolf" that Tamra had mentioned, and the man had nearly robbed me blind before informing me that those who would take my life in vengeance for Rendon Howe's death would gather together at Old Stark's farm at midday.

I looked at the position of the sun, gritting my teeth as I realized that it had nearly reached its zenith. Midday was not afar off, and still I had miles to cover.

I whispered a litany of curses under my breath. _How did it come to this_, I wondered. _How did I reach such a state of complacency and despair that I did not take into account the full depth of a threat to my __**life**__!? And now…now of all times, when I find Leliana returned to me? Maker, I do not understand this twist of fate. I should have told her…I should have done more than thrust Tamra's letter into her hand and yet…yet I had no time. No time to prepare, no time to think, no time to gather any sort of allies. At least I had the foresight to bring my swords with me to Amaranthine. _

I continued riding, sweat beading on my forehead from the heat of the sun as it climbed higher and higher into the sky. I cursed yet again as it began to descend from its midday height, just as a small farmstead came into view. I reined in my horse, realizing that both I and the animal were breathing far too heavily.

I approached at a slow walk, scanning the area before me. There were no horses outside the house, no guards stationed at the borders. Cautious, I moved further in, noticing the door left ajar, almost hanging from its hinges. I dismounted and drew my swords, edging closer to the door, unsure of what might await me.

I nudged the door with the toe of my boot, wincing as it creaked and fell to the earthen floor of the abandoned farmstead with a thud and a cloud of dust. All hope of subterfuge gone, I entered the house, swords at the ready.

_No one here_, the thick scent of copper and salt filled my senses. _But I smell blood…_

Dark smudges marred the walls and had soaked into the earth. I knelt down and ran my fingers through the dirt, bringing to my nose to confirm my suspicions. I followed the spattering of droplets into what must have, at one time, been a bed chamber.

There, in a macabre mockery of respite, lay the body of a young woman.

"No." the strangled sound tore from my throat as I dropped to my knees in the dust.

I reached out and stroked the blood and dirt matted hair away from the youthful features of Ser Tamra's face. Her green eyes were wide, locked open in death, staring into her last chaotic memory. I reached out with trembling, scarred fingers and closed them.

_Yet another __**good, **__**young**__ woman has paid the cost…how long will this continue!?_ I clenched my shaking hands into fists as tears streamed from my eyes. _Too late…I was __**too late! **__**AGAIN!**_

"When does it end?" I asked Tamra's motionless form. "How long must the good suffer, my Maker? I did not know her well, but she was _honest_."

_It was not her concern for my life that led her to warn me, but her belief that I would better the lives of her people. And she came here today…was she waiting for me? Had she depended on my presence, my strength, my swords? Did she count on my protection? And did she cry_, I stared at the gaping hole in her heart and bile rose in my throat, _did she cry as they stole her life from her? _

I brushed the tears from my cheeks, leaving streaks of blood and dirt, not caring. I removed my cloak and draped it over her body, hiding the gruesome wound that had been dealt her. I wrapped my arms around her stiff, lifeless body and lifted her from the ground, carrying her from the hovel that her murderers would have made her ignominious grave.

With great care, I placed her body on the back of my horse, securing her with the reins. _I do not even know if she had family_, I thought, disgusted with myself. _A husband, a lover…children? How many hearts will ache from her absence? How many lives have been ruined by her death…her death in attempt to preserve my life? _

I finished with my task and looked at the sky, at the treacherous sun, to the heaven beyond and the Maker who supposedly dwelt there, watching over his creation.

"How can you countenance this!?" I demanded, my voice echoing over the farmstead, reaching no ear, knowing no reply. "How is it that evil can run free while good men perish!? Where _are_ you!?"

_Heavens, hells, and angels! Where __**are **__you, my Maker? You have spoken to Leliana; I have witnessed this! Why, then, will you not answer my cries!? Why are you deaf to me!?_

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the wind whipping through the grasses. I took my horse's bridle in hand, leading him and his precious burden towards the city of Amaranthine.

_She will be honored. _I swore to myself. _She will be honored, not for her noble blood, but for her purity of heart. I will see to it. _

Sweat dripped down my face and mingled with the tears, covering my skin with a sheen of salt and bitterness.

_Is this my new calling, oh silent god? Has the time of my defense of the living come to an end…so that I might bury the dead? _


	8. Chapter 8

**Leliana**

"Denying your fears will not allay them, Leliana." Wynne stated as she went to the window in my small room and gazed out at the bustling streets of Amaranthine. "Read the letter."

I stared at the parchment in my hands, remembering another letter, sealed with blood-red wax…a missive that had nearly torn Salem and I apart before we even had the chance to truly be together.

"Do you know what it says?" I asked, running my finger along the opened edge.

"I have my suspicions." the healer remained staring outside the window, her shoulders bunched with tension.

_She is worried._ I realized. _Worried for Salem and myself…Maker knows we have given her sufficient cause. _

"Very well then." I took a deep breath, sat on the edge of my bed, and opened the parchment, steeling my heart and reading the words.

* * *

_To Salem Cousland, Arlessa of Amaranthine:_

_ I am afraid that the matter we discussed has only increased in gravity. More communications have been intercepted, translated, and passed on to their intended recipient, but not without great cost. I apologize that I could not come to you in person, but while the identities of those who would see you dead have been deciphered, suspicion abounds and I can trust no one. I have informed a man of a…shadowy nature…of the information that I cannot disclose to you in writing. Seek out Ser Wolf of Rivain in Amaranthine, and mention my name to him. He will tell you what you need to know. Maker's blessings upon you, Arlessa Cousland. I hope we have not been too late._

* * *

"Those who would see her dead?" I looked at Wynne, sharp. "Wynne, did you know of this? What is going on?"

Worry sparked in my heart and roared into full flame when the senior enchanter turned, sorrow in her weathered blue eyes. "It would appear that Salem has made enemies." she sat down beside me and took my hand. "I would hazard a guess that there are a great number of discontented vassals, who profited under Rendon Howe, and find the fact that his killer has been appointed their liege lord reprehensible."

"I do not understand." I folded the parchment and set it aside so that Wynne did not witness the shaking of my hand. "Salem is a consummate protector, gentle, kind, unobtrusive. Those who profited under Rendon Howe would surely double their prosperity under Salem's leadership, no?"

Wynne smiled, comforting. "I am well aware that your knowledge of palace intrigues and the delicate relationships between liege lords and vassals far outstrips my own, but you must admit that in a war-torn country, all the rules are changed. Gold is security, and those who profited from Howe's butchering ways will find themselves impoverished by Salem's innate altruism. Poverty breeds fear, and fear smelts steel. Salem is in grave danger and…given what I know of her…I fear for more than her life."

My heart caught in my throat and my voice cracked as I asked, "Wha…what do you mean, Wynne?"

"When I saw her, shortly before your ship arrived in the harbor, I felt a great unease in my spirit. She looked like one of the soldiers I had treated on the battlefield at Ostagar…the ones who knew their death was soon to come. As you know, Leliana, there are those who fight death, and those who accept their fate. Until now, Salem has always been the former."

_Until now? Until…__**now.**_"Oh no." I breathed, shaken in my spirit and my soul.

"The body can only lose so much blood before it shuts down, Leliana." Wynne spoke, gentle as she had ever been. "The same can be said of the soul, and Salem is dangerously close to that precipice. I tell you this because…because love can blind, and because the ship that brought you here will depart, and Salem knows you will be aboard. You are both cut from the same cloth…duty and calling at the expense of all else."

_Salem knows? How could she, when I do not know my next step from moment to moment? _"Has she said as much?" I asked, desperate to know, to understand.

"Not in words, no." Wynne's smile faded and it seemed as though her years weighed more heavily upon her than ever they had. "But you know her better than any, Leliana. How often does she speak in words when simple action will suffice?"

"Are you…" memories began to fall into place, razor edged puzzle pieces fitting together into a blade that sheared through my spirit. "…what she did to Cassandra?"

Wynne nodded and her eyes filled with grief. "Salem's is a quiet desperation." she said. "So soft and repressed as to be nearly non-existent. But it is there, and it is _powerful_, Leliana. I do not know what has driven her to these actions, but I can only imagine that it is a terrible grief, tremendous pain, and great anguish."

_Her confession…the action she nearly took_, my thoughts raced like a galloping horse. _Not for lack of love but out of desperation…and it has not ended for her. __**I**__ am at peace, __**I**__ feel the comfort of her presence, __**I…**__I have no idea of what she has endured, and is continuing to endure, and I am afraid to ask, lest it shatter the peace that __**I**__ feel. _

"I do not know what to do." I confessed. "I can stay an assassin's blade and ferret out a plot but…but that is not what you are asking of me, is it?"

"No." Wynne smiled. "I am asking that you let the love that blinds the both of you also open your eyes. _Speak_ to her, Leliana, not the words that come with ease, the declarations of passion from two souls too long separate, but the _difficult _words that will bring pain and tears and despair."

"If you…" the question felt more heated than I wished, "…if you also think that I will be aboard that departing ship, why would you ask me to curtail our joy?"

"Because I am a selfish old woman." Wynne smiled. "Because you are the only one who can save the life of the woman I love as though she were my own child. She has no one, Leliana. No one to whom she can open the heart that holds worlds of compassion and light, and a depth of horror and agony that would daunt the staunchest warrior. You…you alone have held that heart in your hands." tears formed in Wynne's eyes and flowed over her weathered, lined cheeks. "Salem gave me hope, Leliana…and I am too old to let hope die without contest."

"I do not even know where to begin." I confessed my weakness, my wariness, my fear. "She has always protected me from her darker heart. She is loathe to reveal such a thing, even to me."

"I know." Wynne patted my hand. "But I must ask you, regardless…for I fear that if an assassin's blade should find her, the body that survived more wounds than an army will be vanquished at last, because the soul it harbors is losing all hope."

"Are things truly so dire?" I stared down at the ground, thinking of Kathyra's question.

_Is she still paying for my freedom? Perhaps. Salem purchased the freedom of the world with her blood, and, without Morrigan's intervention, she would have paid for it with her life. She knows no other way…and no other option has been presented to her. Except…those few glittering weeks. The short span of time when we were free to live in love. Maker, help me! I do not know what to __**do!**_

"I believe they are." Wynne replied as she dried her tears. "You have a very unpleasant choice to make, Leliana, a choice I would wish upon no one, not even my enemy."

"You would ask me to choose Salem?" I asked, not angry but…lost. "Above life, above duty, above this…this _calling_, as it were?"

"I would ask you to choose according to your heart." Wynne answered. "For the difficulty of your choice is that there exists no wrong decision. I ask only that you set Salem free, in whatever manner your heart dictates to you. The soul can die from lack of hope…it can also perish from an overabundance of the same."

"I need time." I whispered, almost frantic with confusion and despair. "I need time to think to…to sort this all out."

"I know." Wynne said, sorrow etched in her tones. "The true horror of life is its brevity, the rapid waves that alter our lives while we drown, nearly helpless, beneath them. I am here for the both of you, child, and I would see the love that bloomed amidst the desolation of a world continue, and strengthen, but it will not as long as the both of you remain silent."

"Have you spoken to Salem of this?" I asked. "If she is as desperate as you seem to believe, then why has she not come to me? Why is she off chasing conspiracies and plots?"

Wynne rose from the bed and her knees creaked. "The answer to that question, and many of its like, is simple. She has no desire to make your choices more difficult."

"Why?" I asked, frustrated that the mage seemed to know Salem's heart and mind better than myself.

"Do not hide from the answer." Wynne chided, not unkind. "For the same reason she let you walk away from her as often as you did."

My self-imposed ignorance fell away and I knew the words, and their truth, before Wynne even spoke them.

"She loves you, Leliana."

Wynne left the room and I remained on the bed, staring at the floor. _Salem and I fell in love in the midst of the Blight. We were allowed to love inside the confines and parameters of her mission, her calling…my love of her…my love of her is outside my calling…is it not? I do not know. Maker, send me more than cryptic dreams and the furor of unanswerable questions…__**please**__. _

_ For_, I realized_, my heart desires to choose both…my warden and my Maker. Torn between two loves, mortal and divine…it was in this same position…that Andraste failed. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Salem**

The sun hung low in the sky as I approached the gates of Amaranthine. Vivid oranges and soothing reds coated everything in the light of a dying day. My eyes stung from the salt of my sweat and I wiped my brow, continuing to trudge through the streets, carrying my burdens, mental and physical. I ached, deep in my bones to the core of my soul.

My path led me to the Chantry, where I tethered my horse.

"Maker's breath." a young woman exclaimed, rushing down the stairs and coming to my side. "Arlessa, is everything all right? This woman, is she…"

"Dead, sister." I replied, grief choking in my throat. "I…I would like to request a room where I might see to the necessary preparations."

"You needn't trouble yourself, milady." the sister hastened to unsaddle my horse as I removed and cradled Tamra's broken, limp body. "The sisters can see to preparing her for the pyre; surely you…"

"There is nothing more pressing to me than this matter." I informed her, attempting not to sound overly brusque. "She was a knight of Amaranthine and a…" emotion choked my voice, "…a good woman."

"Of course, arlessa. Please follow me." the sister led me through a separate entrance, so that the meditations and tasks of the other Chantry brothers and sisters would not be disturbed.

She brought me to a room with a stone table in the center, lit by oil lamps hung on the wall. "This should suit your needs, milady. Is there anything you need from me?"

"Water, cloths, and robes. Also, if you could inform my wi…Seeker Leliana…that I have returned, I would be most appreciative."

"Of course, milady." she bowed out of the room.

I set Tamra's body onto the stone table, feeling oddly comforted by the scent of death and blood. It had been so ever present in my life. A thing of constancy. A thing that never changed. Something that would never be taken from me.

I sighed and began my task. I removed the armor that had not protected her, strap by strap, buckle by buckle, each one consistently more difficult to undo as my hands began to tremble. At last I got the plate off and flung it to the stone floor in a clatter of steel and rage.

_This is not fair_, I railed against fate in my thoughts. _This is all manner of wrong, and there are none who seem to notice as death overtakes the world! _

The accoutrements I had asked for appeared as if by magic, a silent Chantry brother delivering them and leaving as quietly as he came. I withdrew my knife and cut away Tamra's clothing, biting my lip as I bared the wound in her flesh, her body disfigured and her heart pierced through. The dead, clotted blood stuck to my hands as I peeled the stained and muddied clothes from her body.

"Forgive me, Tamra." I whispered as I soaked a thick, heavy cloth in water and began to wash her body. "I promise that you will not be forgotten. I promise you that you will be mourned. I promise," tears flowed freely down my face, "I promise that your people will be cared for."

Gently, carefully, I washed the blood from her wound and the dirt from her face, witnessing the youthfulness of her countenance. Even in death, her lips were lifted, a sign of a woman quick to laughter and eager to appreciate the joys of the world.

_A woman of peace_, I lifted her head and placed the basin of water beneath it, cupping the water in my hand and using it to wash the dirt from her golden hair. _A woman that sought good things for those considered beneath her station…a woman who risked her life to protect them…and me. I am not worth her life…as the Grey Wardens were not worth Mhairi's._

"Was I ever so desperately good?" I wondered aloud as I began to dress Tamra in the white robes that the Chantry brother had delivered. "Had I continued my life as it was, the youngest child of a noble house, would I have been like you?" I looked into Tamra's closed eyes, seeking my identity. "Would I have been willing to sacrifice everything for the good of my people? I would like to believe so…but I will never know that now, will I?"

"You would have been." a soft, sweet voice came from the door.

"You cannot know that." I answered, hanging my head, unwilling to turn and gaze at my wife's beauty.

_I am not meant to witness such things. Mine are the eyes that see death and pain and torment. My eyes are the ones scarred from gazing across the wide divide between mortal and divine. I cannot look upon beauty, upon purity, upon good things. Love was all that I had left, and even that, the Maker denied me. He took her from my side to be his own…for __**no**__ mortal was meant to embrace such a woman as Leliana. _

"I can, and I do." she replied. "Do not forget that I witnessed your return to Highever. Your people loved you, Salem. I have never seen a noble so adored in any country."

"They were greeting the Hero of Ferelden." I answered, still staring at Tamra's milk-white, lifeless body.

"They were greeting _you_." she insisted moving to my side and laying her hand on my shoulder.

I flinched at her touch, but she held firm, refusing to relinquish her grip.

"They were greeting a woman who, without being asked, was willing to give _everything_, up to and including her life, for their safety. And that has not changed, and in no way was it formulated by your warden blood. You were that woman before what happened, Salem."

"You did not know me then." I spoke, beginning to shake bodily as exhaustion from the arduous walk and my own restrained emotions threatened to rip me apart.

"You did not know me as the Nightingale." Leliana replied, the cadence of her voice so comforting, so serene, so antonymic to the turmoil of emotions in my soul. "And still you saw in me the goodness of the woman I once was…and have become again."

"Why have you come?" I asked her, straightening the wrinkles in Tamra's robes, clenching my jaw against the tremors that wracked my body.

"Because you need not face death alone." she whispered. "Because I know your soul, Salem Cousland."

_Yes. You do. You know me as none other ever have, or ever will. And still there is no one else that I can be. I do not know how to change, Leliana. I do not know how to move forward…I tried, once. I tried with you, and was so near success…the woman who smiled easily, and laughed more often…the woman that you left to preserve. I have failed you, dear heart. For without you, I was lost. _

"She…she is the woman who sent the letter I gave you." I moved away from Tamra's body and my wife's touch, letting Leliana see the woman who had risked everything…and given all. "I went to seek out the conspirators…but they were gone. She was…she was alone, Leliana. She died alone, and I could not protect her."

"Salem." Leliana wrapped her arm about my waist. "Salem, I am here for you. Please, my love, _speak_ to me."

_I want to._ _I want to, but I cannot find the words. _

"Let me bury the dead, Leliana." I moved away from her yet again, muscles knotting as I forced them under my control. "It is the least I can do for the woman who gave her life for my own."

"As you wish, Salem."

I reached for Tamra's body, halted by Leliana as she wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder.

"Do not shut me out, my love." she begged. "When this is done, let me offer you comfort, let me offer you rest."

"I am not good company this night." I growled between my teeth, forcing myself not to break apart.

"Please." she whispered, a haunting, tempting lullaby. "It is the least I can do for the woman who gave her life for my own."


	10. Chapter 10

**Leliana**

I sat on the edge of the bed in my room, hands clasped in my lap, body wire tight, as though anticipating an attack. Even the moon filtering through the window could not calm my soul. I shuddered as I remembered the manic look in Salem's eyes as she gazed on the body of the dead knight.

_As though she wanted to open the woman's skin and lie there, still and marble pale, at peace with the world. When I first saw her, she was broken, clean lines of sorrow and pain. But this…what I have witnessed from her tonight. It is as though something has shattered, razor bladed, fragmented, a snarlball tangle of emotions so deeply wrapped in on themselves that they have no beginning, end, or true voice. _

The door opened and my body jerked. I bit my lip, hoping that Salem had not seen my reaction, lest it…_damage her further? I doubt that is possible. Oh, Maker…_I looked into my wife's face as she gazed at me, heart clenching in pain as I saw the agony, utter and complete, written into her silver-blue eyes.

Salem moved to the fireplace, her limp pronounced. She leaned against the mantle, buried her face in her hands, and sighed.

I wanted nothing more than to go to her, offer comfort and concern, a caring touch and tender kiss. But I could not…for she would do as I had done. Ignore all else for the sake of a moment of bliss and surrender.

"I should go." Salem spoke before I could think of a thing to say. "I am a wreck and you are afraid."

"I am not afraid." I countered, trying to find something to cling to…a way to say the _difficult_ words that so desperately needed spoken.

"I can smell it on you." her voice was…dark. The low, lyric notes that I so loved were warped and twisted, deep and grating, nearly inhuman. "We can speak another time."

She turned from me and started for the door and a ferocity rose in me as she turned her back. _No! No, I __**will not **__lose her!_

"No." I spoke, and my words were laced with steel. "Another time may not exist for us, Salem."

"Do not try me further, Leli." she warned. "I am not myself this night."

"Cease trying to spare me the darker part of yourself!" I exclaimed, striding to the door and blocking it with my body. "Salem, _please_, I am at my wit's end and I do not know how to even approach you!"

"Back away, Leliana." she growled, and I shivered, afraid of the menace in her voice.

"No." I said, backing against the door, securing myself in the knowledge of her love, the knowledge that those hands would never be raised in violence against me, even though memories fired through my mind like arrows from my bow, recalling Marjolaine's fury and the bitter price of failure. "No, I will not back down."

"Leliana…"

"_Hear me out!_" I shouted, not caring who might hear. "I _love_ you, Salem Cousland! I _want_ _**everything**_! I want the_ blood_, the _death_, the _wounds_ and the **_pain_**! I want the nightmares that wrack your soul and the anguish behind your eyes!"

"Do not lie to me!" Salem's eyes sparked and her voice rose, fierce and accusing. "Do not tempt me with sweet promises of love! I _swore_ myself to you; I have sacrificed peace and _my_ _**sanity**_ for your sake!"

"Do not spell out before me yet another litany of your _sacrifices_!" I hissed. "Is that your shield now, _Warden Commander?!_ Is this how you protect yourself from the cruel realities of life!? By hiding in that shell of martyrdom and guilt and burdens that you _cannot seem to __**exist**__ without!?_"

"Says the woman who lived in fear that I did _nothing_ to inspire!?" Salem asked, her words like knives against my skin. "I cared for you and carried you, bled for you and _died_ for you! And for what? For the woman who walks away to tell me she wants _everything? _How can you even claim the truth of those words when you have never remained beside me long enough to witness the extent of _everything!_?"

"How could I even attempt to begin when you do nothing but lock your heart away!?" I asked, desperate, hurting, terrified.

"_I. Am. __**Broken**_!" she screamed, a wail of consummate anguish and a pain so deep that it would bring the heartless to tears. A pain that had no end, a torment without ceasing. "But I have _tried! _Leliana..." she collapsed to her knees and lifted her hands in supplication, "…how can I give you what has no name? Every moment without you has been a dagger in my gut, exsanguinating my very _soul!_ Since you left, I have been assailed by enemies on all sides. Howe's son, a volatile mage, a murderous elf, a broken country, every voice screaming and pleading and clamoring for my help or calling for my death and I _can give them __**nothing, for I. Am. **__**Nothing**_!"

_You are everything_, old words from her lips whispered against my ears and tears vaulted from my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, hot and thick as blood. _To me, you are everything. _

"Do not say that." I begged.

"I have never denied you the truth." she spoke, defeated. "Such a thing is not within me. But this time without you…I have subsisted on memories of us; heavens, hells, and angels, Leliana, I have hallucinated the sound of your voice. I have foregone sleep so that I do not dream of you in torment. I let the son of Rendon Howe walk free, because of _your_ belief in redemption, and I have woken with a blade at my throat for that choice. And he let me _live_, Leliana. He let me live because I splayed before him the _hell_ that is my existence…and in realizing that death would be merciful, he _sentenced me to torture!_"

_Salem…_I lifted a hand to cover my mouth as I breathed in jerking, silent sobs. _Oh, Salem, can it be true? Can it be true that you…you should have died that day atop Fort Drakon? That it would have brought you peace? No…no…Maker, this __**cannot**__ be true…for if it is, __**I**__ am to blame for this pain. She walked out of Heaven…for __**me**__. _

I knelt before her and cupped her face in my hands, lifting her agonized, tortured, tear-filled eyes to mine. "Salem, why?" I asked the _difficult_ question. "You could have _anything_ you desire, peace and freedom and even…even death. _Why_ would you not spare yourself this torment?"

Her lips trembled and her brow creased in confusion and hurt. "I…I made you a promise."


	11. Chapter 11

**Salem**

_What am I doing?_ Horror filled me as realization entered Leliana's ocean blue eyes, as the calm resolution in them faded into a shuddering terror. _This is not…this is not as it should be! Maker above help me, I __**never**__ wanted to hurt her!_

"W—what do you mean?" she asked, her hands against my skin beginning to shake.

"I promised you that I would not die." I answered, pulling away from her, hanging my head in shame. "No matter my desire, my selfish, _ridiculous_ desire, I could never go back on my word to you, Leliana."

"This is…this is my fault." Leliana whispered, her fingers threading through my hair, her tears never ceasing. "I am the cause of your sorrow and…and you are paying for my freedom."

"No." I reached out. "Do not make yourself the cause of my suffering. I could not…could not endure it. Let me carry this, dear heart."

"As you have carried _everything_!?" she demanded, incredulous, backing away, standing, leaving me on my knees, exhausted and desperate. "How many times must we…must _I_ beg you to stop giving of yourself!?" she pressed her hand to her forehead. "Even broken, will you let nothing touch you? Even shattered, will you never allow yourself a moment of _peace_!?"

"How can I?" I entreated. "How can I, Leliana, when the _only_ peace I have known has been in your arms…and you are…are not there. None of this is your responsibility…you did everything you could. You stayed with me after Fort Drakon and defied your fear. You burned the Chantry's letter in order to stay at my side. You defied a god…you chose me…and were not allowed to make that decision. It was torn from your hands, as it was torn from mine."

Her eyes turned to me, shocked. Her shoulders drooped, the tension in them vanishing as confusion planted itself in her eyes. "Do you truly believe that, Salem?" she asked. "No heart can be free of anger, and you have ever denied yourself that emotion."

_Am I angry? _I asked myself. _Yes. _I looked at the woman I loved, the woman who held my heart and my soul, who understood me as none other could and I wept. I wept for the cruelty and the grace that had taken from me, the source of my rage and the forger of my suffering.

"I am angry, Leliana." I spoke, rising, unsteady, to my feet. "But not at you. I have given everything, time and time and time again…and each and every moment, the God that allows me a future, that allows me a chance, a moment, a glimpse of what life _could be_…only to snatch it away and leave me with _**nothing!**_"

She remained there, silent, seeming at war with herself as I continued to speak.

"After Fort Drakon, I spoke with my mother in the Fade." I told Leliana what I had revealed to no one. "And she painted the picture of a kind, loving god. She told me that the Maker would forgive, because the true face of god has been hidden from his people. I was promised mercy; I was promised peace and truth and a _life_ beyond the Blight. _Only for that __**same god**__ to tear you from my arms and leave me desolate again! __**Yes, **__Leliana! I. Am. __**Furious! **_Furious and torn because _no matter_ the gravity of my sacrifice it is flung back in my face as a task undone! Even my life…even a life separated from you…has been denied me."

My lips stung with the confession. A truth I had not wanted to relay broke from me and I stood there, torn between wishing to stay, to reveal to Leliana the true depths of my sorrow, and to leave her, awash in the guilt caused by my confession.

"What do you mean, Salem?" she asked, piercing me with her eyes, eyes alight with flame and fury and so much grief that my heart broke yet further.

_Tell her_, my better heart spoke. _Tell her, and ease her path. Let her free herself from the guilt she does not deserve. _

"Do you remember what I told you of the darkspawn, Leliana?"

"Yes." bewilderment creased her brow. "What bearing does it have on this?"

"The creature…performing his experiments…I took its writings and its research and I…I discovered something about the Wardens not previously known, perhaps even by them."

"What is it?" her voice trembled, but her eyes did not leave mine. "Salem, what _is it_?" she asked when I did not reply.

"In the Joining, the blood of an Archdemon is often used, just a drop, no more than that. The creature's discoveries state that the wardens exposed to the blood of an Archdemon are sentenced to a shorter lifespan than previously thought."

"And…and was this blood used in your Joining?" she asked, coming nearer, her hands reaching out for me before falling away as indecision wracked her.

"I have no way of knowing." I answered, beginning to shake once again. "Only Duncan could have told me and he is…he is dead. Even that does not matter, Leliana. Any warden exposed to the Archdemon's blood will find their lives cut short, the greater the amount, the shorter the time."

Leliana's eyes roved over my body, mapping the scars beneath my clothing, remembering the burn wounds, the blood that had eaten through my skin and into my veins, tainting me yet further. Killing me.

"How…" her voice caught, "…how long? How long, Salem?" I remained silent, dreading to speak the truth, the one thing I would never deny her. "_Damn you, tell me!_"

I longed to touch her, as though holding her against me would soften the blow. But it would not. Nothing could.

"Three…four years." I replied, barely above a whisper. "Five at the most."

"No." Leliana breathed, shaking her head back and forth, attempting to deny the truth. "No, Salem, _no!_"

"I," I lifted my hands, palm up, empty and with nothing to offer her, "I am sorry, Leliana. I've nothing to give you…even my life, such as it is, is worth nothing any longer."

Shock rocketed through me as she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce embrace. I inhaled the scent of her, drowning in it as I returned her affection, twining my arms around her body and letting her hold me close. For inasmuch as sorrow existed here, so did love, so did peace, so did everything I had ever needed.

"How," Leliana whispered, "how can you be so cruel?"

I knew that the question was not meant for my ears but that she spoke, as I often had, to the unhearing Maker, the author of my grief.

_Perhaps he will answer her_, I thought, burying my face in Leliana's shoulder, clinging to her. _He did take her from me…from a mortal love that would not suffice. _

"I love you, Leliana." I breathed. "No matter what may transpire, _no power_ in Thedas will change that. I am yours, and no matter your decision, whatever it may be, I will remain so."

She held me tighter, shaking as silent sobs tore from her throat. "I want…" she spoke between ragged breaths, "…I want…so much…to be with you."

"I understand." I rubbed my hand along her back, offering her what comfort I could. "You are no longer mine, against every choice the both of us have ever made."

She sagged in my arms, admitting our ultimate defeat, admitting the truth of my words in a silent capitulation to a force and will stronger than the both of us together.

"I am yours." she whispered. "At least for tonight, I am yours. Let me hold you close, and dream with you, and build a world away from and outside of fate."

I warred with myself, knowing that allowing this wish would serve but to make things more difficult. But I _needed_ her, I _longed _for her, and I _**wanted**_ that which I could never have.

_Only if for a night. _

I moved out of her embrace and lifted her face to mine. "Yes." I breathed. "A thousand times, yes."


	12. Chapter 12

**Leliana**

_How did it come to this?_ I wondered, watching the moonlight paint Salem's face with a serenity so antonymic to the woman herself. _How did a love so fierce, so strong, powerful to the point of transcending death, ever find itself so easily torn apart? And not by one, or the other, but by time and fate and the edicts of a mysterious god. _

I cradled Salem in my arms as she slept, feeling every delicate curve of her body, trailing my fingers over the crimson scarring that flowed down her back, lacing over the scars from her flogging, the swipes from a dragon's claws, the stab wound she had received inside Fort Drakon.

_So beautiful_, I thought, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, _so beautiful and damaged. No hero has ever been rendered in finer colors than this patchwork of skin and scarring. No hero has ever known her level of forgiveness, or her acceptance of a bitter, bitter fate. _

Silent tears slipped from my eyes as I realized the true depth of Salem Cousland's heart. In the tales, the heroes fought against the injustice visited upon them by fate and the gods, rising above every trial, even in death surpassing the mortal coil and reuniting with the ones that they loved.

Never did the hero look at their paramour with sorrow in their eyes, raise their hands, and proclaim that they had nothing left to give. Never did the hero forgive fate. And yet…in my eyes…those legends of the tales seemed the lesser for their defiance. They seemed weaker, somehow, in spite of the glory that time and re-telling attributed to them.

I remembered the tale I had told Salem so long ago, of the two lovers who had joined each other in the stars. Of how she had gazed into the sky, a sorrowful light in her beautiful eyes, not shedding a tear as she realized that such an ending, no matter when it came, would not be written for us. Even then, she had somehow known the pain and tragedy that our fates would hold, if intertwined.

I twirled the ring on my finger, looking at the image carefully engraved into the silver circle. _This will be all that remains_, I thought. _All that remains of a legacy that deserves to be scribed in the constellations and relayed to generations and generations and Ages to come. The tale of a woman who was visited by naught but sorrow and suffering, naught but tragedy and trial, and did nothing but accept the fate she could not fight against, with eyes full of tears and a heart full of love. _

_ There is no magical cure for this_, I pulled her against me, needing to feel the warmth and security of her body near mine, to hear the beating of her heart and listen to the cadence of her breath. _There is no witch with secrets of the arcane. Salem's fate is immutable; her brilliant, bold life cut miserably short._

"What is this, my Maker?" I asked the silence and starlight. "Why have you blessed me with friends, and comforts, and securities, and torn hers away? Why did you promise her forgiveness, and deny her rest? If it truly was her love that awakened you from silence, then why was I chosen? Why not her? I believe in you, with my whole heart, and I have seen you and spoken to you and been marked by you…then why do you refuse to answer her cries? Why are you deaf to her torment?"

No answer came. Not from the moonlight dripping onto the floor, not from the wind that blew gently outside of the window, nor from the oil lamp that flickered on the wall. Nothing.

_This must be a test_, I bit my lip and closed my eyes, rolling onto my back and attempting to ease the tension in my soul. _A test to discover if I will make the same grave error as Andraste. Whatever her choice, it was not in accordance with the Maker's will…but so much of the histories have been lost or distorted. I cannot place myself inside her mind, inside her body. I cannot understand her own questions, the indecision that must have wracked her as surely as it is crippling me. _

I rested my head on Salem's shoulder and inhaled her scent. Smoke. Copper. Salt. In spite of the situation, I felt comfort emanating from her, a cloak of peace and a sense that all was well within the world.

_How could choosing her be wrong_? I wondered. _And yet, the promises I have made, to Kathyra, to Kestrel, to myself…how could I turn my back on my given word in good conscience? Save for the fact_, I wiped tears from my eyes, tired of grief but unable to escape from it, _that I swore my first vows of loyalty to her. That I took her ring, and her name, and that any deeds I have done since making that oath, be they of great or little import, have been because of those vows. _

"You have given me such strength, my love." I whispered to her sleeping form. "So much that I am afraid you have none left for yourself. How is it possible that one person, one heart, one soul, one body, can give so much…and still be so forgiving, and not harbor anger? You are inhuman, Salem Cousland. And I love you."

I closed my eyes as slumber began to haze the thoughts that surged through me. As I neared the brink of oblivion, the door rattled.

Salem jolted from slumber and immediately scrabbled from her shirt as cries of, "Arlessa, arlessa, are you there!?" came from behind the door.

I sat up, clutching the covers to my chest, alarm erasing any thought of sleep from my mind. Salem pulled her shirt on and raced for the door, wrenching it open to reveal a city guardsman, hopping from foot to foot.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled, showing no hint of her earlier despair, grief, and vulnerability.

"Messenger bird from Seneschal Varel, milady." the guardsman spoke, his words tumbling over themselves. "Guards have reported a group of armed peasants amassing on Vigil's Keep, bearing torches and some even carrying weapons. You are needed immediately."

"Ready my horse." Salem ordered, showing the impassive face and impossible calm that had carried Ferelden through the Blight.

She closed the door and I flung the covers off and scrambled off of the bed. "Let me go with you." I begged as she pulled on her boots and strapped her swords to her back.

"No." she shook her head, vehement. "An unfamiliar face at my side will only rile them further."

"Salem, it isn't safe." I entreated, placing a trembling hand on her shoulder. "There are those out for your blood; how do you know this is not something perpetrated by them?"

"I do not." she answered, clipped and professional. The mask had already been set, and no amount of pleading could remove it. "All the more reason for you to remain behind." she pinched the bridge of her nose and I winced, knowing the reason for the gesture. "It never ends for us, does it, Leliana?"

The question needed no answer. Circumstance had answered it for us all too clearly and all too well.

"Return to me?" I took both of her hands in mine, begging her with my touch, with my eyes and words.

Her lips pressed to mine in an all too brief, all too meaningful kiss. "Always."

Then the door opened and closed, and she was gone, and I was alone…alone and terrified, not knowing if this was a promise she would be able to keep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Salem**

The crowd surged around me as I drove my horse forward, towards the steps of the Keep. A handful of guards stood before the gates, holding their spears at the ready.

"We demand justice!" a man, the obvious ringleader, stood in front of Varel, screaming at him. "We demand to see the arlessa who would let us fall to ruin!"

I swung from the saddle and my horse tossed his head, ill at ease with the contentious energy that hung in the air. I walked to the two men and moved Varel behind me.

"I am Arlessa Cousland." I informed the man. "What is it you have to say to me?"

"How can you look at us with your face set as stone!" he railed. "It is true what they say; that your heart is hard and cold as ice! Look at you, surrounded by guards as you let the darkspawn rape and ravage our land! We demand sanctuary! We demand action! We demand restitution for what has been stolen!"

The throng of chattering, yelling people drew in closer around us and Captain Garevel came to my side, longsword drawn, his shield attached to his arm.

"An easy solution, arlessa." he spoke. "Have the guards disperse the rabble. They will not be quieted or set to rest. Blood is all they understand."

_And it is those very thoughts that have made kings into tyrants and good men into murderers. _

"Yes!" the ringleader shouted. "Run us through and prove yourself a despot! Prove yourself no better than Rendon Howe as you would water the ground with the blood of those who have lost too much already! The darkspawn razed my farm to the ground! My wife was killed and my son lies on the brink of death!"

"What do you want?" I asked him, keeping my voice even, no matter how much I longed to raise it, to decry him in return for the _audacity_ of equating me to Rendon Howe.

"Salem, surely you…" Varel began, but I lifted my hand and clenched it into a fist, silencing him with the gesture.

"We want protection!" he shouted. "We want security, that which the liege lord is _commanded_ to provide! If necessary, we are prepared to take the Keep itself!"

The guards bristled, the clatter of their armor and steel chafing against my ears as it riled the crowd further. Torches waved haphazardly beneath the night sky, along with the sounds of shattering glass and the impatient footfalls of rioters.

"What good will that do you?" I asked, looking into his eyes, surveying the crowd. "If you overrun the guards and take the Keep, with what skill at arms will you defend yourself against the darkspawn?"

"She is speaking sense, Lawrence." a woman's voice rose above the crowd. "You told us we were coming here to speak to the arlessa and give voice to our disquiet in peace…not…not threats of violence."

"Seal your lips, woman!" Lawrence fumed, stepping in close to me, so near that I could smell the stench of whiskey on his breath. "You above all know that the nobility will never listen to their people if they come in peace! Blood has been taken, blood shall be our repayment!" his flashing eyes turned to me. "How _dare_ you hide away in your Maker-be-damned castle while the rest of us suffer! How dare you let our wives, children, husbands, and brothers fall beneath the blades of the darkspawn! At least Rendon Howe sent the militia to _protect us_!"

"Arl Howe _enslaved_ my son!" the same woman's voice rang out and the crowd parted as she elbowed her way through. "Enough of this, Lawrence! You know my George was taken by Howe's men in the dark of night and conscripted against his will!"

Lawrence glared at her in disgust. "If you'd paid your taxes, you know that would not have come to pass." he growled. "Will you hear us, Arlessa Cousland, vaunted _Hero of Ferelden!_ Your deeds lie in the dust as hollow! You are _nothing _of a hero! Men and women of Amaranthine, seize your future! Take the Keep and strike down the usurper!"

"Lawrence, no!" the woman determined to mediate cried out as the man surged forward.

I placed my hand against his chest, allowing the strike as he brought his fist against my cheek. My head snapped to the side and white light flashed behind my eyes, but I did not move. I looked back at him.

"Guardsmen," Garevel shouted, "to arms!"

"_Guardsmen, stand __**down**_!" I bellowed with the voice that had rung out over the roar of a dragon. "_People of Amaranthine, __**Hear! Me! Now!**_"

An unholy hush spread throughout the crowd and even Lawrence backed away, rubbing the hand that had struck me.

I stood there, uncertain of what to say next. Noble platitudes would not sway them. Nor would words of anger and threats of punishment. _Father, give me strength_, I begged the man who held the love of his people, the man who had been mourned throughout Highever.

All eyes were on me as I knelt to the ground, lowered my head to my knee, bowing in the position of fealty. I lifted a handful of dirt from the ground and clenched it in my fist, rising and staring Lawrence directly in the eye.

"I am sworn to this land!" I cried, my voice echoing back to me from the stone walls of the Keep. "And I am sworn to you, her people! Great wrongs have been done against you, and tragedy continues to strike! Rest assured that I do not turn a blind eye! Rest assured that I _will_ do all that is within my power to protect your homes, and your families, for without _you_, this land, and _I __**myself am **__**nothing**_! Please, I entreat you, return to your homes, and know that you have been heard!"

"When will we see proof!?" Lawrence demanded, though his voice had lost its former fury.

"The proof is before you, fool!" the woman cried. "_Listen_ to her…never did Rendon Howe accord us any import in this land! She has all but knelt before you and begged forgiveness! Whatever the rest of you may choose, I wash my hands of this!" her eyes turned to mine, flashing with grief and sorrow and trust. Trust that I would keep my word.

She stalked through the crowd and away from the Keep, followed by more and more as torches dropped and guttered out in the earth.

"Arlessa," Garevel came to my side, eyeing Lawrence, who was now backed by but a handful of supporters, all of whom gathered close and listened, "this man struck you. The penalty for assaulting the liege lord of Amaranthine is death."

Lawrence paled, beginning to shake as he realized his supporters had deserted him, and that my guards outnumbered his mob.

_Rendon Howe, you unctuous, pretentious, __**bastard!**_

"Are you insane?" I looked at Garevel, brows lifted in anger. "Their spirits are worn, their livelihoods stolen. Bring me Amaranthine's governing laws so that I might strike that traitor's dictates from it. Men can be pushed only so far until they break. Captain Garevel, fetch Anders."

The captain saluted and departed, barking an order and passing through the gates at a run.

"Lawrence," I spoke, gentle, calm, "be at peace. No action will be taken against you this day, or any other. I am recruiting and training more men and women for the militia, but the Blight and near war have stolen from all of us. What I ask is that you give me time to see my promise made reality."

Lawrence stared at me, dumbstruck. "Y…you would…ask something of me?"

"Yes." I nodded. "What I said before was truth. Without its people, the land is nothing, and the lord protecting it even less. I will always listen to you, and do whatever I may to see to your needs."

The sounds of approaching footsteps greeted me and Garevel and Anders appeared at my side.

"This is Anders." I gestured to the mage. "As a healer, he knows no equal. Anders," I turned to the man, whose shoulders had straightened and chin lifted at my praise, "this is Lawrence. His son is gravely injured, and in need of your aid. Please accompany him, and do what you can for his son."

"Of course." Anders nodded, looking to Lawrence. "Lead the way, ser."

"Arlessa, I…" Lawrence hung his head, "…I have done wrong. I should accept my punishment for striking you."

"No." I shook my head and extended my hand. "Let us part in peace this night."

He clasped my hand and shook it in a strong, affirming gesture. "T…thank you, milady."

He turned and walked away, the last few stragglers of the mob following behind, whispers and untranslatable words wafting back to my ears.

I sagged as the energy of conflict nearly entered rushed out of me and Varel took me by the elbow, shoring me up. "Are you all right, Salem?" he asked.

"Shaken." I replied. "Grateful. Worried."

"Alas, I can offer you no respite." Varel frowned as I regained my feet and straightened my shoulders. "Bann Esmerelle and Lord Guy arrived shortly before the rabble…"

"People, Varel." I corrected him, gentle. "They are men and women like you and me…no more and no less."

"Yes, milady." he nodded, deferential. "In any case, they are waiting for you in the main hall. Apparently each of them were visited by a similar scene, and to hear them tell it, a peaceful resolution was not had."

"Maker's blood-soaked breath." I cursed, trudging towards the Keep. "I want peace, Varel, not a gods-damned massacre."

"I know, Salem." he sounded so concerned, so fatherly, and my heart cracked as I missed what I could no longer have.

_Much like everything that was good in my life…it is not allowed to exist. Maker, if you have heard __**none**__ of my prayers, I beg that you hear me now. Let me return to Leliana. Let me make good on my word, to her and to my people. That is all I ask. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Leliana**

I paced the four walls of the room like a caged animal, clenching and unclenching my hands, flexing muscles that screamed with lack of use.

_How dare she!?_ I asked myself, tightening my jaw, restraining a voiceless scream of frustration. _How dare she walk away from me, wearing that __**gods-damned mask!? **__We were so close to some sort of resolution, a degree of understanding as much a poison as a cure. Still…_

"Why have you denied us peace?" I looked through the window to the smiling moon in the ink-black sky. "Why have you thrust upon her torment upon torment, and upon me your silence as you condemn me to this…this…test? You _know_ Salem! She would _stand and do nothing_ to influence my decision! Just as she did after Fort Drakon, when she _looked into my soul and offered me __**nothing! **_Nothing, so that I would see my own heart! Nothing, so that I could see my way clear! Nothing, so that my words and truths were my own!"

I quieted as my own words returned to me in an echo. My brow creased as I looked into the moon's leering grin.

"Is this why you are now silent? A dream in which you offered me nothing…nothing, so that I…"

_Andraste failed. Was there ever a time when the Maker did not answer even her Bride's pleas for enlightenment? Oh, Salem…how tortured are the heroes of the tales? Is it possible that, when they existed, they were as you and I, simple and human and struggling for understanding in a world bent on confounding every thought and hope and dream? _

"Did Andraste ever scream to the silent sky?" I asked the quiet of my room. "Did she ever beg you for guidance and find you silent, my Maker? Were there…were there any who paid for her freedom in blood?"

"I thought that question might have tormented you unnecessarily." a quiet voice came from the door and I turned in a blur of movement.

"Kathyra?" I asked, striding towards the door, moving my arm around the physician's waist. "What on earth are you doing up and about?"

She smiled, with none of Marjolaine's acidity or machinations. "I am savoring the Maker's gift of healing magic." she said, soft. "Already I feel stronger…and I have been beside myself, thinking of when we last spoke. I…I wronged you in the asking of that question, Leliana. Please let me explain."

I guided her to the edge of the bed and helped her sit, heartened that she did so with little sign of discomfort.

_How can mages be cursed, when theirs is the gift of healing?_ I wondered, and not for the first time. It had been Salem that changed my thoughts of magic…during my time in the Lothering chantry, I had adopted many of their unfortunate beliefs, including an inherent mistrust of those who possessed magical power. But Salem, in her love, her nobility, her wisdom that transcended her years, had opened my eyes to the true curse of the mages…and that it was the ignorance and fear of those who did not possess their gifts.

"There is no need to explain." I told the physician, standing back and examining her beneath the moon's light, glad to see the tinges of color in cheeks too long pale. "You have given me much to consider, and I am grateful for it."

"You…you did not understand my intent." Kathyra shook her head, adamant. "And I was not coherent enough at the time to give voice to it. I am now, and I ask that you listen."

"As you say." I sat beside her, willing away the furor in my mind, opening my ears and my heart to her explanation.

"I am afraid it requires further telling of my own story." Kathyra grimaced, looking back on times that must have been torturous. "I told you of…of Marjolaine's reaction to my newfound liberty. That she attempted to take my life and left me for dead. I told you of waking in the Chantry under the care of a physician…and that I chose to adopt that same path. I did not tell you of what came after."

I could see the pain in her green eyes, gold flecks standing out like the small moments of happiness that she had been allotted amidst a sea of anguish and suffering.

"You need not, Kathyra. Not if in the telling you will be hurt."

She smiled again, though the movement seemed strained. "You have to understand, Leliana. Please. Let me tell you."

"Very well." I shook my head, thinking of the similarities between the physician and my warden.

_To tell me the truth, and nothing but, without thought of the consequences or regard for their own pain. _

"My life was saved by Sister Giselle." Kathyra faded into the darkness of her memories. "She was in the alley where Marjolaine struck me down, taking a shortcut back to the Chantry by pure happenstance. Giselle mended my wounds, and, when it became clear I had nowhere to go, and nothing but ignoble talents to fall back on, she apprenticed me to her without second thought. I spent three years at her side, turning my hands from a murderer's to a healer's, giving shelter and succor to the sick instead of extorting them…learning to treat all men as equals…though it would seem, by your standard, I still have much to learn."

"Kathyra, I…"

"No, Leliana. A day without new knowledge is a day discarded." she sighed and continued her story. "Giselle did more than take me under her wing. She took me beneath her roof, offering me a home, and a family of her and the other sisters. I worked in her small clinic and never gave a second thought to the cost…until one night. A man entered the clinic, bleeding from a sword wound across his gut. I felt foreboding, but Giselle was busy with a sickness in the city orphanage, and I could not turn the man out, no matter how ill-at-ease I was with his presence. I disinfected his wound and stitched his skin, all the while feeling a nagging thought at the back of my mind that I _knew_ him from somewhere."

Kathyra rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. I did not need to see her eyes to know that tears streamed from them. Words froze in my throat and died, unable to speak in the face of what, for her, seemed to be a more painful experience than Leron's magical torments and Marjolaine's betrayal.

"Giselle had glorious golden hair." she recalled, soft. "And green eyes, much like Private Kestrel's. As canny as they were kind. She was…truly beautiful, Leliana, and I know now as I did not know then that I loved her more than I have loved any other. Two days later, a knock rang at our door in the dead of night. I do not know what possessed her, but Giselle forced me into the closet and told me to remain there, no matter what might happen. I…I watched through a knot in the wood as she opened the door. All I witnessed was the slash of a blade across her throat." Kathyra shuddered in revulsion. "Giselle crumpled to the ground and the door slammed shut. I…I ran to her and I…I cradled her head in my lap…her eyes were _smiling_, Leliana, even in death."

I remembered Salem's death at Marjolaine's hands, the look of serenity stamped on her features, the slight upward quirk of her lips.

"Like a woman possessed, I hunted her killers." Kathyra spoke, flat. "Only to find that the man I had treated two night's prior to Giselle's murder was one of Leron's lackeys…who worked for Marjolaine after she killed the mage. He recognized me, and told my sister that I lived…information which earned him a knife in his gut." she scoffed as darkness overtook her features. "Marjolaine had a peculiar fondness for killing the messenger. She then sent men to kill me…a woman with golden hair and green eyes. Giselle perished simply for her resemblance…it was then that I realized a grievous, horrible truth."

My own throat felt choked by tears as I grieved for Kathyra, a woman who had lost so much, and at the same hand which had caused me untold torment. "What…what is it?"

"Wherever there is slavery, wherever there are chains," Kathyra looked at me, piercing me with eyes nearly identical to her sister's, "when they are broken, blood is the price. Giselle paid for my freedom with her blood, for Marjolaine believed me dead, and sought me no further. For months I sought Giselle's killers, at last locating them only to realize that in killing them, the freedom she had sought for me would be ended…that I would become again for her sake what she had liberated me from. Instead, I…I sought to honor her in the only manner I knew. I swore my vows to the Chantry, and became the woman who stands before you."

I wrapped my arms around the healer, who had become a friend, a confidant…someone who _understood_.

"My…my question." Kathyra forged onward, determined to make herself clear.

"The answer is yes." I breathed, sobered and sorrowed by the truth of it. "Yes, Kathyra. Salem has paid for my freedom…and continues to do so. But I cannot repay…"

Kathyra shook her head, stopping my words. "It is not about repayment." she reached out and took my hand in hers. "Repayment, equal measure for equal measure…it would only end in more blood. It is about the _gift_, Leliana. Giselle paid for my life with her own, and in turn, I _gave_ myself to the life and calling she desired. For her sake."

_The gift_. I let her words sink in, but I understood her meaning at last as I looked into her eyes. "You think I should…"

"Stay." Kathyra squeezed the hand she held. "The Chantry will not be easily toppled, Leliana, there will be time beyond time to effect its change…your warden will not live forever. Surely…your freedom is worth such a small sacrifice?"

"Why?" I questioned, uncertain of the physician's motivations. "Why would you, who have seen the grievous errors made by the Chantry, turn away the first you have met who would attempt to right them?"

"Because, if I had it to do over again," Kathyra whispered, "I would take the blow Giselle took in my stead. I had known joy, and I had known love, and I had known freedom…instead, I am in the world; Giselle is not, and it is poorer for her absence. It will be much the same when Salem leaves this world, and I would not see my only friend burdened with my regrets. Please, Leliana. It is your gift to give, and none other can decide for you, but I ask…as one like you…one whose chains were unbreakable…save by another's freely offered blood."

I sat in silence, looking once more to the moon. Kathyra rose and patted my shoulder, a silent gesture of thanks and of understanding.

"Can you…"

"I am fine." she assured me, smiling and leaving as silently as she had arrived.

Once more, I was alone with my thoughts, made more tumultuous by Kathyra's unexpected revelations.

_How could I not have seen this_? I wondered. _Unwilling? Unable? How did I not see that it is not my freedom alone that Salem has bought with her blood…but…all of ours? She bought Alistair's freedom from his fear, Morrigan's freedom from her mother, Wynne's freedom from her guilt, Zevran's freedom from the Crows, Oghren's freedom from Branka, Shale's from her control rod, Sten's freedom from his failure, and…and only two have willingly given of themselves for __**her. **__Alistair, Morrigan…and their child. Their gift of life to Salem…but I, I who __**love**__ her, why am I…_

_ …why am I so torn?_


	15. Chapter 15

**Salem**

I entered the main hall of the Keep, looking from side to side, on my guard as I found it empty, save for the two figures standing before the fire pit in the center of the room. A familiar scent tickled at the edge of my awareness, dark and burnished, rich and sensual.

_I know this from…somewhere. Why will my mind not properly function? _

Bann Esmerelle turned, faced me, and immediately set her chin at a haughty angle, dry brown eyes looking down the length of her shrewish nose. I had sensed malice in her when she had sworn her oath of fealty, but Varel had informed me that Esmerelle was too powerful to be unseated…and held the loyalty of too many knights to be trifled with.

_She is rumored to have supported Rendon Howe, but I have witnessed no evidence to prove those rumors. And I will not judge on suspicion or hearsay. _

Lord Guy accompanied the most powerful bann in Amaranthine. The unctuous, obsequious man had left little impression on me, other than dislike. His skin was too pale, too soft, and his nose bore the ruddy sheen of a man who spent too much of his gold savoring wines and rich food…like as not while his people starved. I raised an eyebrow as I noticed the scraggly, patchy beard he had grown in an attempt to cover his weak chin.

"Bann Esmerelle." I nodded in greeting. "Lord Guy. I am sorry that such disquiet has brought you here this night. What might I do for you?"

"You might have mitigated this problem from the start." Guy spoke, even his voice grating against my ears. "By leaving in place our former arl's, Maker rest his soul, instructions and edicts. You have cut our forces in half by freeing those men and women from their contracts…"

"Before you continue," I lifted a hand, stalling him, "you will win little favor with me by…"

"Questioning your orders?" Esmerelle asked, disdain evident in her voice.

"Did I address _you_?" I asked, refraining from looking in her direction. "I will thank you for abstaining from interruptions. As I was saying, Lord Guy, you will win little favor by supporting a man who believed in enslaving the people of a free nation."

"I do not want _favor_." Guy snarled. "I desire an arlessa who will pull her head from the earth and _realize_ the gravity of the situation. Esmerelle and I were attacked in our _homes._ Our guards could scarce withstand the onslaught."

"And?" I raised my eyebrows, glowering at the both of them, tormenting them with the scars inside my eyes. "Did I not face the same hazard? No onslaught ensued. No blood was spilled. Tell me, Esmerelle, Guy," I antagonized them purposefully by foregoing their titles, hoping to draw from them the true purpose of their appearance, "did you even go out to your people? Did you speak to them, hear their grievances…or did you send your guards and their captains?"

Esmerelle's face became an impassive mask, but Guy had not yet schooled himself into such behavior. He stammered and took a step backwards.

"To venture among the rabble is suicide." Esmerelle sniffed. "They need a strong hand to guide them; a clear minded leader. If we listened to every grievance, what time would we have to govern?"

"If you listened to even _one_ grievance, you would not have been visited by a mob." I countered. "People are driven to violence, Esmerelle, most of them do not adopt it as a lifestyle."

The dark, rich scent that had taunted me earlier returned in full force, and I realized from whence I knew it.

_Zevran…and his Antivan leather. What in __**hell?**_

"Rendon Howe had a manner of dealing with intractable nobles, arlessa." Guy smiled, all oil and spite. "Like a cancer…_cut_ from the body of the whole. Amaranthine has no need of you, Cousland. We were fine as we were."

I drew back, pulling my swords from their sheathes as four strangers, wearing Antivan leather, emerged from the shadows. Esmerelle turned to Guy, shock stamped on her rodentine features.

"Guy?" she asked. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Esmerelle, you…" the young noble stammered as I sized up my enemies, wielding the wicked daggers akin to the ones Zevran had carried ever on his person.

"I do not condone assassination!" Esmerelle exclaimed, dodging back as Guy swiped at her with a short sword.

She pulled a knife from her belt and faced off against the noble. I had no doubts as to who would win the contest, but I had my own enemies to confront.

I held my swords at arm's length, looking into the faces of the Antivan Crows for the second time in my life.

_Once more than most_. I thought, grim.

Knowing that the instant I took the defensive, I would be dead, I launched myself at the nearest Crow, sweeping my primary blade in an arc, catching an attack to my side with my offhand sword. The Crow dodged my blade and pain shivered down my leg as he threw a small, bladed disc. I cursed, realizing that my swords and their length were working against me.

Zevran's skills had been unmatched, and keeping him at a distance had only ever allowed him to whittle my strength down little by little. Facing four trained like him would be nearly impossible to survive.

_But survive I __**must**_.

I dropped my offhand blade to the floor, catching a Crow by his jerkin and thrusting him face first into the scorching coals of the brazier. A sickening scream and the smell of charred flesh clouded the air and I turned, slashing out as another Crow lifted his knife to stab me. My blade caught under his arm and I thrust upward, severing the artery and withdrawing the blade, knowing he would bleed out in mere moments.

I kept my back to the roaring fire, trusting it to protect me as I faced the other two Crows, feeling naked without my offhand blade. Talking would do me no good in this situation. The Crows knew loyalty to nothing but gold.

_And how many children will go hungry because of the gold it took to pay them to end my life?_

Anger filled me and the heat from the fire scorched through the clothing I wore. Both of the Crows charged me and I stepped to the side as one's blade whispered through my hair. I wrapped my arm around his neck and pinned him against me, pivoting on my feet in time for his companion's blade to plunge into his back. I shoved the body forward, knocking my last assailant off balance and finishing him with my blade across his throat.

I stood there, panting, relinquishing my sword as I saw puddles of blood forming on the floor, around the bodies of the four lifeless Crows.

I turned at the noise of another body falling, watching as Esmerelle pulled her gore-drenched dagger from Lord Guy's heart. The noble collapsed to the floor with a squeaking rasp and I nodded my thanks to the older woman.

"Foolish whelp." Esmerelle shook her head as I walked towards her. "Nobility is akin to a game of chess, and Guy too stupid to understand that pawns are _always_ expendable."

She stumbled and I went to her aid, lifting her by her shoulders and locking our eyes together. "Are you all right?"

"Quite well." she smiled and pain speared through me.

My legs began shaking as I looked down, seeing Esmerelle's blood soaked hand…gripping her knife…which was buried to its hilt in my gut. I opened my mouth, but no words emerged as Esmerelle rose to her full height.

"Pawns are expendable," she repeated, "but queens are only taken by treachery." she leered. "And with you out of the way, Cousland, Amaranthine will return to the peace it knew under Rendon Howe."

She twisted the blade and my knees buckled as a hoarse scream shredded out of my throat. I collapsed against the walls of the brazier, struggling to breathe through the pain as Esmerelle sauntered away, leaving her knife inside my body as proof of her victory.

The door slammed as black danced before my vision and the taste of blood filled my mouth. I fought for breath, pressing my hands against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"V…_Varel!_" I cried out, listening to my voice echo across the stone.

_Let him hear. Dear Maker, let him hear. _

The sound of footsteps met my ears and I forced my eyes to remain open as Varel knelt beside me, his eyes wide with worry.

"Salem, what happened?" he gasped, removing my blood slick hands and replacing them with his own.

"Es…Esmerelle." I gasped.

"You sent the mage away...and Woolsey is gadding about auditing the arling, damn her hide." horror filled his gaze as he realized we had no healers nearby. "Try to stay awake, Salem. I am taking you to Amaranthine. Keep pressure."

He returned my hands to my wound and dashed away as I fought to keep unconsciousness away. I pressed my hands against the blade, focusing on the blood streaming over them as I took strained, shallow breaths.

_Amaranthine. Yes. I…I have to say…farewell. _


	16. Chapter 16

**Leliana**

I entered the infirmary shortly after sunrise, attempting to conceal my worry from the three friends that greeted me on arrival. Kathyra's brow lifted in a question, but she said nothing, instead paying careful attention to her breakfast.

"Is everything all right, Leliana?" Rylie, the most vocal of the three piped up.

"I…" I ran out of reasons or the need to present an appearance, "I do not know. Salem was called away last night to mediate a riot and she has not returned."

Kestrel's face darkened and her vivid green eyes flitted to Rylie's, with an expression that spoke what volumes of the written word could never convey. She knew the intimate horror of facing a situation in which the one person you hold above all might never recover from.

"I am certain she is fine." the mage-templar spoke in her quiet, unobtrusive manner.

I bit my lip, torn between trusting the beliefs of my friends or believing the gnawing ache in my spirit that screamed in foreboding.

"Leliana, sit down." Kathyra patted the edge of her cot. "You are obviously troubled. That need not be the case among friends."

Her smile, echoed by Kestrel and Rylie, comforted me as I sat down. I ran my hand through my hair, a gesture I had repeated too often through the night I had spent alternately trying to sleep and pacing the room.

I knew the vagaries of nobles. I knew their closeted conspiracies, the backbiting and the plotting, the inevitability of such a plot's fruition…for good or ill. And Salem…she could face demons, angels, and gods in battle, ever emerging victorious. But against dishonesty, against treachery…

"There is a plot amongst the nobles here, to take vengeance for the former arl." I breathed, sharing my troubles, easing my burdens, a gift that Salem had not been given. "And Salem is…not naive but...guiless, in a manner. I am worried."

_I should have gone with her._ I hurled recriminations at myself. _Never mind her protests and reasons against my accompanying her. Damn it. __**I. Should. Have. Gone. **_

"She's the Hero of Ferelden!" Rylie exclaimed, tossing me another beaming smile. "Darkspawn tremble at her name and you're worrying about lesser lords and ladies? Anyone who could kill a dragon while blind could surely…"

"Fall prey to the machinations of wicked men." Kathyra finished, sober. Her green eyes reached mine and she extended her hand. It was warm, and firm, and I smiled, happy that she seemed to be recovering from her injuries so quickly.

"We are all but mortal." Kestrel almost whispered. "All with our flaws, our secrets, our weaknesses. Inasmuch as we would like to believe some of us extend beyond that standard, at the end of the day, we are but flesh and blood."

"Kes, so maudlin!" Rylie reprimanded, batting the taller woman on the shoulder. "The woman who saved my life is nearly tearing her hair out and you and the lieutenant are talking unendingly of falling prey and mortality and blood and death and…and it's too gruesome to countenance. Both of you, trust in the legend, trust in the _Maker_."

Kestrel took Rylie's hand and drew the young woman's onyx eyes to her. "The Maker nearly saw fit to take you from me. Forgive me if I am indisposed to believing in divine intervention and providence."

_Where is your faith now, Leliana?_ I wondered, considering Kestrel's words and how close they were to my own thoughts. _Where is the faith that woke a silent god, that turned a warden from her path of self-destruction and, in her own words, brought her back from death itself? _

Rylie's mouth opened, but no words came forth as she saw the fervency in the eyes she looked into, the obvious emotion locked inside a woman who was not demonstrative, but whose love was more than evidenced in actions, expressions, and gestures. Again the similarities between Salem and the mage-templar struck me.

"I am sure all is well." I mediated, looking from Kathyra to Kestrel to Rylie. "I am perhaps prone to worry…life has instructed me to anticipate the worst."

As if on some macabre cue, an older man rushed into the room, blue eyes alight with worry. "I need aid!" he shouted, and several of the Chantry sisters turned towards him. Kestrel and I rose to our feet, ordering our injured friends to remain as they were. "The arlessa has been injured, please, is there a healer here?!"

I froze in shock as his words met my ears and twisted my heart into a tangle of madness and fear. _Salem_.

I rushed towards the man, parting the Chantry sisters who had gathered around him. "I am Leliana Cousland." I spoke, thrusting my ring into his line of vision as proof of my identity. "Where is Salem?"

"Outside." he spoke, breathing heavily. "There were no healers at the Keep…I had to bring her here in a bloody farmer's wagon."

"Kestrel." I called, but the mage-templar was already on my heels.

"Mistress Wynne was called to a conference at sunrise." she informed me as we raced down the Chantry steps, to the street below, where sweaty horses fidgeted, alarmed by the scent of blood that hung heavy in the air.

"Damn it!" I cursed as I leapt into the back of the wagon, choking on the lump in my throat as I saw the woman who had left my side, strong, vibrant, and alive.

She lay on a pile of straw, her skin ashen and pale. A scratchy blanket covered her and I pulled it away, gasping as I saw the hilt of the knife protruding from her abdomen.

_No. Oh, Salem no…do not tell me we are too late! Please live, my darling! Live_.

I gripped her hand, flinching at the heat emanating from it, so at odds with her blood loss and pallor. I felt the pulse point at her wrist, frightened as but the lowest throb of blood through her veins pressed against my gouging fingers.

"She needs a mage." I whispered, frightened as I had never before been.

"First things first." Kestrel spoke, close behind me. "We need to get her inside." I looked into her vivid green eyes and she met my gaze, calm, steady, collected. "You helped save the love of my life, Leliana." she said, situating herself between Salem's legs and catching her hands beneath the bend of Salem's knees. "Let me do the same for you."

I nodded, gripping Salem's shoulders, lifting her on Kestrel's count and carrying her up the stairs and into the infirmary, where the Chantry sisters directed us to a room filled with the scent of herbs and a raised stone table. My gut twisted as it recognized the layout of the room I had found Salem in last night, preparing the dead knight for the pyre.

"Here." the man gestured to the table, and Kestrel and I lifted Salem's body onto it, as gently as possible.

"There are no healers here." one of the Chantry sister's spoke up, her worry obvious in her trembling lips and pale skin. "They have all gone into the city and countryside and will not return for…"

"No." I whispered, shaking my head, unable to tear my gaze from the knife in my lover's body, the slowly spreading stain of blood on her shirt. "No, that cannot be."

_I cannot lose her…not like this…not when there are so many things unresolved. Maker, what is this!? What manner of trial, what manner of test __**is**__ this! _

"It isn't." a voice came from the door. "Leliana, get out."

"What?" I looked into Kathyra's steely eyes and flinched.

"I need to work. For that, you cannot be here. Private Kestrel will remain and keep you apprised of the situation." she entered the room, moving carefully. "Sisters, I will need two of you to assist. Seneschal, Leliana, _out!_"

I obeyed, struck by the ferocity in Kathyra's eyes, the command in her voice. The door closed behind us and I leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose as the man began to pace.

"Damn it into hell!" he cursed, slamming a fist into his open palm. "I should have been there…should have known. She cannot die…it is outside the realm of possibility! Maker, please," he prayed, echoing my own desperate thoughts, "please spare her life."

_Yes_. my thoughts whispered as tears began to form in my eyes. _Please, look down from your heaven and revoke your silence. Speak into the universe and let her live! Do __**not**__ steal my choice from me, no matter how difficult it may be. I beg you I beg you I __**beg **__you!_

_ Let her live…please…_


	17. Chapter 17

**Salem**

_I walk forward through the dark hallway, not needing light, not needing any sort of assurance. I have been here too many times before. The in-between land, somewhere between the Fade and the life beyond, somewhere on the wicked precipice of death and peace and all the things I have longed for. I continue walking, knowing that I shall not be alone for long, that one who has traversed this path before me will join me soon. And there will be words, and there will be choices, and I will…I will…_

_**I no longer know. Always before the choice has been between life and death. And the answer always came to me with an irrefutable knowledge of what must be done. To choose life. To choose love. Now, it seems both of those have been taken from me…why fight any longer? When triumph lies vanquished, when love lies bleeding, when hope lies strangled and torn…why continue to struggle? **_

_A single light illuminates a table. A flat, black glow gleams from its surface and I grit my teeth as a man rises from his seat, smiling at me with sharpened teeth and obsidian eyes. _

_ "Look, friends. At last, 'twould seem, fate and destiny have equalized and brought the vaunted Salem Cousland to her rightful resting place." he speaks, looking to the others who sit at his right and left hand. I cannot see their faces, but I know his…and my heart sinks as I understand what is happening. _

_**At last…the final, spectacular fall from grace. The weight of the blood on my hands has brought me here, and I have no choice…not any longer. **_

_ I walk towards the table, keeping my eyes on the fathomless black gaze that still glimmers with loathing. "Hello, Loghain." I pull a chair from the table, but remain standing. _

_ "Ah, so you know the rules already?" Loghain asks, his thin lips turning up again in a gesture of triumph. "There are no titles here, no memories of what we were, or the deeds attributed to our names. You are among the ignominious now, Salem Cousland…in your proper place."_

_ "No heaven left for you." another man rises, a face I have seen etched into my nightmares and stamped permanently in my memory. Rendon Howe glares at me from across the table. "Try as you might to undo whatever 'evil' you attribute unto me, when death at last seeks you, it seems you are no better than I."_

_ I stiffen and grasp the back of the chair for support, struck by his words even though I can understand the truth of them. Heroism and villainy…there are no black and white definitions, no clear delineation between the two. In the murky light, in the interwoven silver shades of fate, there is no reason that I should receive a final rest. The Maker is no respecter of persons, and blood is blood, and death is death, and justice is blind. _

_ "Are you anticipating that I shall rail against the Maker?" I ask, looking to the two men who set my life upon its path, who turned me from woman to warden, from a lover of peace to a bringer of death. "That I shall scream and rant and rave against being cast here with those who have done such grievous harm? I will not give you the satisfaction. I am…I am here by my own doing."_

_ "Now now now." the third figure rises and smiles at me with ruby lips, her green eyes glimmering with mirth and victory. "Has the one who sacrificed everything for love changed so that she no longer seeks life with a legendary zeal? When the nightingale took flight, as I warned you she would, did your spirit collapse inward, into its own darkness and bring you down to the abyss to mingle with those who have found themselves destroyed by you?"_

_ Her words…her words strike a fire in me that the other two cannot. I grip the back of the chair until my knuckles turn white. _

_ "I am the creator of my own hell, Marjolaine." I spit her name, hating that I gaze into her face, that those who tormented me in life cannot compare to __**this **__creature, whose only crime against me was harming the one I love. "There are none strong enough to craft an abyss for me, none who could engineer my destruction save my __**self**__."_

_ "And do you think the masses will grieve for you, little warden?" Leliana's bard master asks, her eyes alight with cunning and self-satisfaction. "Do you think that they shall write poetry and songs, that my pretty thing will walk the earth, alone in her grief, crying for the love that abandoned her for hell?"_

_ "I __**deserve**__ this." I face my enemies and take a seat, accepting the Maker's final edict. That I do not deserve a place in paradise. That I do not deserve to walk the world again, with a new face, a new name. That I shall remain here, chained with those whom I had destroyed, for my darkness rivals their own._

_**No matter that I fight against it. No matter that I have stayed my hand when they would have struck. No matter that I have inflicted every pain upon myself that I can withstand, while they would place it on another's shoulders and walk away guiltless. Forgiveness is but a pretty dream…and when my mother promised me that the Maker would see, and **__**forgive**__**…I was still capable of dreams. Now...now I am broken, and dreams are dust and blood in my hands, hope slaughtered by reality.**_

_ "I deserve this." I state again, daring them to challenge me, to torture me, to kill me again, even in death. "I have no illusions about what I have done. I have slaughtered, I have massacred, all in the name of a greater good than can never be truly illuminated. What do you want from me?"_

_ "There is no joy in this." Howe spits on the floor, disgust evident in his tone. "Where is the woman who nearly severed my tongue with her blade, who screamed in my face of the righteousness of her vengeance?"_

_ "Where is the woman who called me a liar and demanded that I cede my crown in favor of the king's bastard and her own antiquated nobility? Where is the woman who let me be murdered before my daughter's open, tear-filled eyes?" Loghain inquires._

_ I look between the two of them, wondering if I can answer their questions. I do not know where that part of me has gone, the confidence, the conviction, the __**belief**__ that I can succeed, no matter what I face. It has been replaced with despondency, weak efforts against a world that resists change with an alarming constancy. It has been replaced by a knowledge that evil and greed lurk ever in the hearts of men, and that no one person can alter what has been set in place and seeded into hearts generation unto generation. _

_ "Where," Marjolaine speaks, and I feel that her question will but twist the knife in my heart, "is the woman who would do anything for love? Where is the woman who realized that the true measure of sacrifice lies not in the giving of life, but in the living of it?"_

_ Loghain nods his agreement, and Howe smiles like a snake. _

_ "Indeed." the dead regent speaks. "Any fool can die for a cause, live on in martyrdom and be forever worshipped by the weak-minded masses. Blood is easily spilled, and more easily given."_

_ "It is not as easy to keep breath in the body, to force fatigued muscles to move, to push faith into a disbelieving heart." Howe continues, grinning all the while. _

_ "I do not understand." I whisper, looking into each set of eyes that, in their life, looked up on me with hatred and defiance as I ended their lives. _

_ "We lived." Loghain sneers. "The three of us __**lived**__ as we believed, Salem Cousland. You have faltered."_

_ "Become weak." Howe continues._

_ "Lost your way." Marjolaine smiles. "Sought death at every turn, prayed and begged for it and **sought it out**."_

_ "Now, it would seem," Loghain takes his seat, and the other two follow. _

_ "You have lost the choice." Howe finishes._

_ Marjolaine laughs, the irritating, triumphant giggle that had torn across my spine the first time I heard it. Here, in this place, it seems even more chilling, vicious, and acidic. _

_ "There is no choice for you, little warden." she smiles, casting a light on the somewhat cryptic words they have spoken. "Once, when you __**lived**__ your beliefs, you had the decision to walk between paradise and the waking world. But now, now that you have fallen so far, you must wait for the Maker's judgment."_

_ "Welcome to a mortal life, Salem Cousland." Loghain raises an imaginary glass in a macabre toast. "Welcome to what your darkness has brought you."_

_ I cross my arms and remain seated, staring at the faces of my enemies. I know that somewhere, far away, a war is being fought against the tears in my flesh, the blood spilling from my body, the consequences of relinquishing my guard. I know that somewhere, Leliana has been told, and that she worries, and that her eyes are filled with tears that I can do nothing to assuage. I know that somewhere, my mother and father weep for me and that, somewhere, a silent god stares at my name and judges the deeds I have done._

_ And I know that once before I have faced divine judgment, and was found…in and of myself…unworthy. _


	18. Chapter 18

**Leliana**

I chewed my lower lip as the man at last ceased pacing and leaned heavily against the wall across from me, sliding down in a slumped, weary position. He ran his hand through long, iron grey hair and stared at me with such kindness and worry in his eyes that my tears flowed faster and with yet more pain.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to end the silence, the worries, the faint noises I could hear through the door, though I could not discern their meaning.

"I am Varel, Lady Cousland." he introduced himself. "Seneschal of Vigil's Keep and intermediary for the arlessa in her absence."

"Well met." I brushed tears from my cheeks, attempting civility, anything for a mask to hide behind. "Seneschal Varel…if it is not asking too much, might I inquire as to what happened?"

He hung his head and the weight of shame settled on his shoulders. "Did you know of the conspiracy against her life?" he inquired, and I nodded. He pursed his lips in a frown and shook his head. "There was a riot at the Keep." he began the tale. "I have never seen such regality, such nobility, such daring. She walked amidst the rioters, spoke to them as though she were _one_ of them…knelt before them and begged their understanding."

The knot in my throat tightened as I remembered Salem in Highever, bowing to her people, begging their forgiveness for a crime she had not committed. Her steadfast belief that nobles, not the common people, were the true servants. An anachronistic belief that had been forsaken by every single person in power…save Salem. And now, save Alistair. Both of them were consummate servants, sworn to the land, sworn to its people.

"She knows no equal." I breathed, chilled to the bone as the image of her, still and bloodsoaked, a knife sticking from her body, lingered in front of my eyes and would not depart.

"Indeed." the seneschal agreed. "Two vassals, Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine and Lord Guy, had faced similar riots and come to the Keep to address the matter with the arlessa."

I cringed as he refused to say Salem's name; kept calling her "the arlessa," as I had once referred to her as "the warden"… a title to distract myself from how dear she was to my heart, how much she meant to me…how devastated I would be at her loss.

_How much more so now_? I wondered, twisting the ring on my finger.

"I…I do not know all of the details." Varel muttered. "But I heard a skirmish, and she called my name. I…I found her bleeding, barely coherent, surrounded by five bodies, Lord Guy among them. She named Esmerelle as her attacker. Damn that woman's blessed heart," Varel leaned his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling in despair, "she sent our only competent healer with the riot leader…to…to tend to his injured son."

I squeezed my eyes shut against an onslaught of tears, mimicking Varel's expression, staring to the sky in despair. _Damn you into hell, Salem!_ I screamed inside my mind. _Why must you always, __**always**__ forego sensibility!? Why can you __**never**__ care for yourself!?_

I got to my feet and began pacing, my heart hammering in my ears like a war drum. My fists clenched in a fury that had no outlet. I wanted this Esmerelle's blood on my hands; I wanted her to feel the knife she had rammed inside my lover's skin. To know the terror she had visited on me.

Candlemarks passed and the sun dropped lower in the sky as I chewed my nails down to nothing, waiting. Varel had left not too long ago, muttering something about attending to matters of state and seeking justice. I was left alone, alone with my worry and the pain in my chest that threatened to eat me alive.

_How can this be happening_? I asked for the thousandth time. _Maker, what are you doing? What purpose does this have? She has…she has so little time already. Would you see it torn down to nothing? Are you…are you afraid? Are you afraid of the woman who opened your heart, who reminded you of the ferocity, power, and beauty of love? Why…why would you take from me my one source of joy? If I am your prophet, your beloved, why would you take her from me?_

The door opened and I stopped breathing as Kestrel emerged. Her hands and shirt sleeves were soaked with blood, her eyes wide and filled with sorrow.

"Kestrel…" my voice cracked, faltered, and I stared at her in mute despair.

The younger woman wrapped her arms around me as I trembled. "She lives." Kestrel whispered, and I withdrew, searching her eyes for any hint of deceit.

"Tell me everything you know." I begged, pleading for the harshness of the truth. "Please, Kestrel, I beg you."

"It is…grim." Kestrel shook her head, and I hated myself that such a young woman had been exposed to such trials and terrors in quick succession. "The blade…the blade nicked something vital…I can't remember the name. The lieutenant did what she could but…"

"Blood poisoning." Kathyra emerged from the doorway, wiping her bloody hands on a disgustingly stained cloth. She looked weary to the bone, with pale skin, dark shadows beneath her eyes, and sweat-drenched hair. Her eyes seemed devoid of life as she met my gaze. "It might have been averted, had she been able to receive immediate treatment. As it is…I mended the damage, Leliana, but I can do nothing for the infection. Even if I had the proper medicines, they work only twenty-five percent of the time. She needs a mage and I…"

The physician swayed on her feet and I caught her as she fell.

"I'm sorry." she whispered as I helped her regain her feet. "I…I did everything I could but…she's not fighting, Leliana. I cannot explain it, but…it seems as though she's…"

"Wanting to die." horror swamped me as I realized the true depths of Salem's torment.

_Nothing to cling to. No hope to claim. Nothing but the promise of continued torment. It is…it is unfathomable._

"Kestrel," I called to the young templar, who came to Kathyra's side and supported the physician as she battled exhaustion, "help her back to the infirmary. Make sure she eats something and let her sleep."

"Wha…what about Salem?" Kestrel asked, her eyes flitting from me to Kathyra to the door in a confused whirl.

Kathyra shook her head. "Nothing to be done." she mumbled as her eyelids fluttered. "Forgive me, Leliana…I…I tried."

"Go." I pressed my lips to her sweat-soaked brow and relinquished her fully into Kestrel's support. "Thank you, Kathyra…I have no words." I looked at Kestrel. "Take care of her."

"Yes, ma'am." the templar responded, leading Kathyra to a well deserved rest.

I steeled myself as I entered the room, haunted by the looks of sorrow and sympathy I received from the Chantry sisters…as though I had come to look upon the face of the dead.

"Leave us." I ordered, staring at the blood on the ground, the dried lines of crimson on the sides of the stone table.

_Blood spilled for all the world. Blood spilled for the sake of a hollow, __**meaningless, **__**greedy**__ vendetta! It is not __**fair**_!

The Chantry sisters departed, shutting the door behind them. I went to Salem, straining to control the tremors in my body. She lay there, still and silent as the stone she rested on. I could feel the heat emanating from her skin without even touching it. Tears spilled from me as I witnessed the horrific landscape of scars that had been written into her body.

I reached out with trembling fingers, pressing my hand to her chest, feeling her heart beat too fast, too weak against the infection that ravaged her body. A wide swath of bandaging covered her midsection, stained a brilliant red. She breathed in shaky, painful gasps, but there was a serenity in her features that I knew…that terrified me.

_The peace of death. The sole time she has ever seemed truly serene. _

I tangled my fingers in her sweat-soaked hair, reaching down to take her scarred hand in mine. I pressed my forehead to hers as if I could breathe life into her. My tears dripped onto her fevered skin like a rain of desperation.

"You listen to me, Salem Cousland." I whispered, squeezing her hand as tight as I dared. "Your time in this world is _not_ done. I am _not ready_ to let you go. You want to die, you want to rest, and I understand that. But there _will be time_ for that…_later_. I am not begging, my love. I am not praying. You _will_ return to me, and I will hold you in my arms, and we will _love_ as we were meant. Start. Fighting. You are a soldier, and _that __**is an order!**_"

I pressed my lips to hers, a promise, should she return to claim it.

"Even if I damn my soul into hell," I whispered, both to Salem and the Maker, "I will stand by you, my love."

I looked from Salem's still, bloodless face into heaven.

"Do you hear me, my Maker!" I shouted. "I am at my end with tests and questions! If denying the love of the woman who _opened your heart and __**ended your silence**_ is a sin, then _punish_ me as you see fit! If your true desire for this world is love, then _fucking __**prove it! Bring her back to me!**_"

"Leli…ana…" a hoarse, cracked voice met my ears and sounded like a symphony. I looked at Salem through the haze of tears and saw her eyes open, unfocused, fever-bright…not with me in this world. "Leli…I'm in…hell…"


	19. Chapter 19

**Salem**

_"Have you had enough yet, Cousland?" Loghain asks, smiling down at me. "Did you think we would simply let you sit among us, you, who tore our lives away? Just because we linger in the same place does not mean we harbor you no ill will. Perhaps this is the Maker's justice, yes?" he turns to his comrades and they smile, full of malice. _

_ I lay on the ground, struggling to breathe past the bruises on my body and tears in my skin. It had not taken my less than delightful company long to veer from verbal abuse to physical. Loghain had bound my arms behind me, letting Howe beat me to a bloodied pulp before he himself joined in the fun. Marjolaine stands at the table, flipping her wicked, barbed stiletto in her hand. _

_ "Get up." Howe sneers, kicking me in the ribs._

_ Broken bone grates against flesh and I struggle to my hands and knees, crawling away and vomiting blood onto the ground. Muscle spasms shake my entire body and my mouth fills with the sickening taste of copper, salt, and acid. _

_ "Oh, look at the poor thing." Marjolaine coos, her voice sickening sweet. "So broken and alone. No sweet voice to call you back from death's door. No savior's hand to deliver you from hell."_

_ "How the mighty have fallen." Loghain grips the back of my shirt and hauls me to my feet, gloating as he stares at the wreck they have made of my body. "Are you still the martyr, Salem Cousland? Are you still the lover of sacrifice? Look where it has gotten you."_

_**Surrounded by my enemies**_**, **_I fight to lift my head, to see through vision that is all too blurry. __**Surrounded by those whose crimes I share…but…why? Why am I here, when my crimes were committed in defense of others? I tried…so hard…to never act on a solely selfish desire. And when I did…my mother…a woman who has **__**never**__** lied, said the Maker forgave me…so why…why am I here?**_

_ Loghain drags me to the table and tosses my unresisting body onto it. Marjolaine smiles as her blade flashes downward, slashing open the inside of my forearm. I hiss through clenched teeth and attempt to staunch the bleeding, to no avail. Blood slips through my fingers and I feel a familiar fire ice through my veins. _

_ "You remember this, don't you?" Marjolaine asks. "The feeling of a slow poison working its insidious way towards your heart? Only now there is no witch to manufacture an antidote. There is no mage to force lightning into your heart." she leans down to my ear and whispers, "There is no beautiful bard to weep for you. You are alone, little warden. And you will die in the land of death; all that you stole from us will be taken from you, in blood and bone, in flesh and sinew."_

_ "Aunt Salem!" a new voice breaks through the fevered haze of poison, of the beating, of the merciless barbs of my enemies. "Aunt Salem, help me!"_

_**Oren!**_

_ I force the pain away, the broken bones, the internal bleeding, the poison that has killed me once. My vision clears as I see Rendon Howe holding a fistful of my nephew's hair, a malicious smile on his face and a knife in his hand. _

_ "Hear that, Cousland?" Howe asks, jerking Oren's small body against him. Tears well in my nephew's wide eyes and my heart clenches into a fist. "Do you hear the voices of those dearest to you, the ones you could not save? Not even now…now when we are all dead, you do not have the strength of will to move from that table. You __**will**__ watch me kill him again."_

_ I struggle to move as Howe's knife approaches Oren's throat, but I cannot. My muscles have gone limp; my broken bones eat further into my body. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come forth. And fire builds behind my eyes, consuming me as surely as the poison running through my veins. _

_**No!**__I shriek inside my mind. __**No! I will **__**not**__** watch this happen! NO ONE will take what I love from me! I have suffered **__**enough**__**! I have tortured myself **__**enough!**__** I have let my soul fall into darkness and it has taken DEATH to snap me from the error of my ways, but I see now, I **__**see**__** the truth that my own foolish indulgence in grief has blinded me to! And I will not fall prey to it again!**_

_ "Do…not…__**dare**__…lay your hand on him!" I swing my legs over the edge of the table and force myself to my feet, as I have done countless times before. _

_ "Witness your sin!" Loghain bellows as Howe grasps Oren's chin and tilts his head back. "Witness your failure, Cousland! Witness it in the blood on your hands and the lives you could not spare!"_

_ I lunge at Howe and wrest Oren away from him, tucking my nephew against my side as the three approach me. My vision fades in and out, but I lift my chin, choosing defiance, choosing __**truth.**_

_ "My only sin." I gasp, breathing heavily. "Is in believing that I deserved to be in your loathsome company. I have done __**nothing**__ but strive to preserve life! My only failure is that one good cannot outweigh the __**grievous **__**evil**__ that taints your hearts! I am…no martyr…for even though I have **longed** for death, and sought it out, I. Still. Live! I am here due only to __**my own foolish, **__**ignorant **__self-loathing! This is not my time, and this is not my hell, for when I do, in truth, greet death…" I shield Oren's body as the three draw knives and plunge them into my body, again and again and again until all I am is torn flesh and spilled blood. I fall to my knees, gripping Oren's shoulders for support. I take my nephew's face between my scarred hands and smile at him. "…I will be…in paradise…with those I left behind."_

_ My nephew flees to an approaching figure and I collapse to the cold stone of the ground, finding instead lush grass. I hear the sound of birdsong as my blood soaks into the earth. A cool breeze whispers past my ears and I let the tension in my muscles ease, knowing somehow that Oren is safe, and that Loghain, Howe, and Marjolaine are nowhere near us. _

_ "Please, milady." I hear Oren's voice from far away. "Please help my auntie! She's been hurt…she was only trying to save me from the bad men and they hurt her. Please, milady, please!"_

_**It's…all right. **__I lay my head against the earth and smile, watching through blurred vision as a delicate pair of bare feet come nearer. A figure kneels beside me and I see a waterfall of indigo curls while eyes as beautiful and silver as the full moon look into mine. _

_ "At last you see the truth of it." speaks a voice of time immemorial and ocean depths. "At last you have let me near you." _

_ A pair of small hands gathers me into an embrace and lifts my broken body without effort. A peace I have never known infuses me and I feel comforted as I never have been before. _

_ "I was never deaf to you, my child." she whispers, placing the softest of kisses on my bruised and bleeding brow. "But you are no longer entirely mine, and you held such bitterness against me that I could not draw near, no matter how my heart bled for you."_

_ "Who…who are you?" I ask, feeling a healing warmth infuse me from her touch. _

_ "I am that which you named silent, which you cried against in anger. I am that which has taken everything from you, and would give back what I can, if only you would allow me."_

_ "M…Maker?" I ask, barely coherent enough to understand what is happening._

_ "You know me by that name." she smiles, and it is the radiance of the sun and the heat of an impassioned embrace. "Just as you now realize that it was not my choosing, but your own, that set you among your enemies in this moment. You have done no wrong in my eyes, Salem Cousland, but your heart is stronger than most…strong enough to craft your own eternity."_

_ "I…I do not understand." I breathe as she sets me down with great care amidst a field of wildflowers. _

_ "And you need not." her fingers trail over the wounds left on me by the beating and the attack and I feel them begin to heal, without pain. "Understand this, and this alone. You are seen. You are heard. You are deserving of life and living, and the joys thereof. You are loved."_

_ "But…"_

_ "None of that, my child." her fingers whisper over my eyes, closing them. "There is one very dear to us both who is calling for you. Go to her, Salem, and cease this search for death."_

_ "I have…so many…questions." _

_ "Answers will come. In time. Rest now, my warrior. Rest and dream of what you shall return to."_

_**Leliana**__, the sound of her name is a song in my heart. __**Leliana, forgive me. I have been a fool. But never has my love of you faltered and I…I can be once again who I was. If I am allowed to return to you, I swear, on my name and my blood and my honor, I will come back a different woman. **_


	20. Chapter 20

**Leliana**

_If ever there was anything I despised, it is this feeling of uselessness_. I watched the sun sink lower in the west, painting the sky the color of blood. I had remained cloistered in this room for the entirety of the day, praying, begging, pleading…crying until I thought I was out of tears.

Salem was deteriorating. I could see it in the waxy sheen of her skin, the labored, uneven rasping of her breath, the unnatural heat that radiated from her body. Her eyes worked frantically beneath her lids and every now and again she would mutter something unintelligible.

_Leli…I'm in…hell…_

I wondered if those were the last words I would ever hear from her beautiful voice as I attempted to bring her temperature down. I bathed her body in cool water, lingering over every scar, remembering the terrible battles that had brought her to her knees again and again.

_And always, she would rise. Always, with that determination in her eyes and the defiant set of her lips. She is so beautiful…_

I ran my thumb along the indigo and scarlet scar on her cheek. _And she made everything beautiful. That which I thought too damaged…she shone a new light on it, one of acceptance, one of love, and I…I began to believe again. _

"Come back to me." I whispered, the same words I had said as I witnessed her broken body on the top of Fort Drakon. "If you had the strength to walk out of heaven, surely you can tear yourself from hell. You made the world new for me, Salem. You gave me back my music, you restored my shredded voice…you gave me back my beauty…all that which was stolen, you restored."

I pressed my trembling lips against her still, silent mouth. Her lips tasted of blood…as they had the first time she kissed me…

* * *

_"Good as new." Wynne announces, patting my knee in a motherly gesture. _

_ I wince as I trace the line of stitches across my forehead, biting my lower lip. __**Do not ask**__, I command myself as I clench my hand into a fist. __**It no longer matters. I have no beauty left to me…what difference does it make if there are scars where all can see? **_

_ "Will it scar?" warmth envelops me from behind, and the sound of the warden's voice sends shivers down my spine as she asks the question I will not give voice to…so much do I fear the answer. _

_ "No." Wynne smiles encouragement and Salem extends a hand to help her from her seat on a tree stump. "Between Morrigan's knowledge of herbs and my own healing magic, our bard will be quite well mended. I should be able to remove the stitches in a week."_

_ "Thank you, Wynne." Salem squeezes the senior enchanter's hand and Wynne returns to her tent. _

_ The warden kneels before me and draws my gaze to hers, and there is a tenderness in her eyes that I have seen more and more often as we travel together, battling darkspawn and making good on ancient contracts. Her arm is still bandaged from the werewolves' attack in the Brecilian forest, and I absent-mindedly reach out and touch the cloth that protects her healing skin. _

_ Fire rushes through me as her hand closes over mine, as I feel every inch of our connected skin, her swordsman's calluses, the delicate tremors of exhaustion through her muscles. _

_ "How are you feeling?" she asks, and it seems as though time falls away, as her quiet inquiry drowns the noises of Zevran's lewd jokes, Morrigan's sardonic laughter, Alistair's blushing protestations of his virginity. _

_ "Profoundly stupid." I reply, eager to tear myself away from these uncomfortable emotions, these feelings that have been building in the pit of my stomach for a month and a half now. _

_**The way she looks at me…as if there is no one else in the world. I knew such a gaze once before…and the hands attached to it seduced me, enthralled me…nearly killed me. I will not suffer from such a thing again. **_

_ A fleeting smile crosses Salem's face and she winces as the split in her lip from the earlier skirmish tears anew, leaving a bright bead of blood on the tender skin. _

_ "You were caught off guard." she attempts to comfort me. "It could have happened to any of us."_

_ "I dodged a charging hurlock, tripped on a root, and cracked my head on a rock." I shake my head as laughter bubbles in my chest. The dull ache in my head becomes a devastating throb and I groan, regretting the action. _

_ Salem rises to her feet with a dancer's grace, moves behind me, and I groan for an entirely different reason as her strong hands massage the tightened muscles in my neck, driving the headache away. _

_ "It's not your fault." she speaks, the low timbre of her voice sending shivers down my spine. "I am quite certain that the roots are in league with the darkspawn. Not even the most deft and dexterous of us could withstand such a treacherous alliance."_

_ I laugh at her words, a rare display of humor from our normally stoic warden. Her hands continue their divine treatment and I feel my bones melt beneath her ministrations. The deep tissue massage becomes a lighter caress, titillating every nerve, sending thoughts spiraling through my mind._

_**It has been years**__, I recall, biting back sounds of pleasure and contentment, __**years since I felt another's touch in this way. Maker's breath…she is so gentle. How is it possible that hands so suited to weaponry and battle can be so soothing, so tender, so…perfect? **_

_ "Better?" she asks, moving her hands away, leaving me aching at their loss and at the desire to feel them again. _

_**But they would pull away…the instant she could see the horrid landscape of my body…her hands would withdraw, her gorgeous eyes would fill with horror. I am a lie…**_

_ "Yes. Thank you." I fold my hands in my lap, afraid that they will reach for her, cling to her, promise her something that I cannot give. _

_ "I'm glad." she kneels before me again. "Let me help you back to your tent. You should get some rest."_

_ I smile at her and her eyes spark with an emotion I know all too well, and it terrifies me. __**Desire…perhaps something deeper. But I cannot. I have seen how this ends and…and I am afraid. **_

_ "I cannot." I tell her. "I drew first watch."_

_ "That was before the darkspawn." she stands and offers me her hand. "I've already spoken with the others." I glance around the camp and notice that everyone has retired. "Burrow and I will take first watch, then Alistair and Wynne, then Zevran and Morrigan. You, my lady, will have the luxury of sleeping an entire night through."_

_ "I'm fine, Salem." I protest, feeling guilty that I seem to be a consistent inconvenience to this beautiful woman who wears exhaustion like a cloak. "Truly, I am more than capable of sitting around a fire and listening for odd noises." I smile to lessen the harshness of my words, expecting a reprimand, or a stern lecture on how important our continued health is to the mission. _

_ Instead, Salem's hand reaches out, cradling my cheek. "Let me care for you." she whispers, and her words and their unmistakable __**honesty**__ batter against the rapidly deteriorating walls in my heart. "Please. I have come to believe that you are…that we are…close, and I…I have so little to give, Leliana. A full night's sleep seems such a paltry thing to offer but…but it is what I have. So please…for me?"_

_**How is it…how is it that she **__**never**__** asks anything for herself, and even when she does…it is somehow for another? **__I fit my hand into hers and she pulls me to my feet. The world spins and I stumble from the sudden wave of dizziness and she is at my side, fitting a strong arm about my waist, holding me against her with a beautiful, soft, giving strength. _

_ "Thank you." I mumble, ducking my head so that she does not see the furious blush coloring my cheeks. _

_ "Think nothing of it." she keeps supporting me as we walk the short distance to my tent._

_**But…but I cannot think nothing of it. Every gesture, every word, every kindness you extend…you are making me dream again, Salem Cousland. It has been so long since I, since I **__**wanted**__** anything at all from another. I'm so scared…these feelings…these emotions…I have known them before and they have **__**destroyed**__** me. **_

_ All too soon we are at my tent, and I realize we have been standing here for a while, and I have made no move to break away from her embrace. _

_ "Leliana," she asks, so sweet, so soft, so caring, "is everything all right?" she pulls me closer to her, worried. "Maker's breath, you're shaking. Are you unwell? Do I need to fetch Wynne?"_

_ She moves to leave and I grasp her arm, awash with feeling and confused and afraid and tongue-tied but I simply must __**speak!**_

_ "W…what do you want from me, Salem?" I ask, thinking that if I can understand her motives I can make sense of my bewilderment._

_ "Want from you?" she repeats the question, her eyes searching mine for a hint of direction. "I…I am afraid of want, Leliana." she confesses. "But I…I __**feel**__ you when you speak, and when you sang for me, your voice reopened doors that I shut in the face of my family's death and thought would never open again. Of all of us, you alone joined with no compulsion, no sense of debt, and no hesitation. I have seen the way you look at me, the questions in your eyes, and I __**hear**__ you when you listen to me…a beautiful melody on the edge of sound. I thought all feeling, all emotion, all hope lost to me, and you have awakened it and I want…I want to do the same for you."_

_ There are tears in my eyes now, tears from the pained eloquence of her words, the humility and beauty of her wants. And yet I cannot escape the fear that hounds me, the knowledge that I have listened to sweet declarations before and found them but poisoned lies._

_ "Then why," I ask, "why have you not taken what you desire?"_

_**As Marjolaine took what she wanted, as everyone in my life has done…with no regard for my wants, desires, or wishes. **_

_ Salem's brows raise and blood drains from her face. "Because it is not mine." she tells me. "And if you do not want as I want, or feel as I feel, what right have I to take?"_

_**You would**__...I stare at her, in awe…__**you would give me the choice? You would leave if I asked? You would speak no more if I told you I could not bear this? Why? Why would you give me so much?**_

_ "Salem, I am…I am afraid." I confide, hoping that she will know what to do as I am at a complete loss. _

_ "Can I show you, Leliana?" she asks, hesitant. "Can I show you…what I cannot find words for?"_

_**If I said no…you would leave, and speak no further of it**__, the realization shatters me and a peace steals over my fear. _

_ "Yes." I breathe, not knowing what will happen, but trusting her._

_ She keeps her arm about my waist, moving to stand in front of me. Her eyes do not move from mine and there are stars in them, gleaming, glittering, __**singing**__. Her hand reaches up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "You are so beautiful." she whispers, and I shudder. _

_ She pulls me tighter to her, without urgency, without haste, without pressure, melding our bodies together and I feel my blood thicken and my heart pound with how well they __**fit**__. Her eyes flit to my lips, but I do not see Marjolaine's hunger and cunning in them. Instead, they are lit with awe, struck with an expression of worship. _

_ "Thank you." she whispers._

_ Her lips press against mine, gentle, but purposeful. They are soft, sweet, and I taste the tang of blood from where they have been cut. Her touch is warm, tender, and her hand cups my cheek with reverence. Heat flows through my body, igniting my nerves, tearing down walls because this kiss seeks __**nothing**__._

_ I wrap my arms around her body, tracing the musculature beneath her shirt, feeling her strength and how she trembles with restraint._

_**But**__, my body reads hers as her lips continue to move across mine, __**but she is not restraining herself from taking…she is instead holding back her desire to **__**give**__._

_ I return the kiss, abandoning fear, forgetting the lies, basking in this unadulterated outpouring of the purest emotion I have ever felt. I feel safe and secure as she pulls away, breathing heavily, her eyes burning with fire and her body shaking. _

_ "That," she breathes, "is what I feel, Leliana. Forgive me…if it is not what you want."_

_**Salem…Salem…I have never known what such a thing is to even desire it for myself…so pure, so bright, so…so beautiful. **_

_ "I…I do not know what to say." I find myself unwilling to move, unable to leave the heat and promise of her body._

_ "Then say nothing." she smiles, a genuine smile that makes me go weak in the knees. "And sleep, and know that I wish you to dream of beautiful things."_

_ I leave her side and enter my tent, shaky, disoriented, feeling as though I could take flight. I collapse on my bedroll and stretch my aching muscles, drawing the blankets tight around me as exhaustion draws my eyelids down. And I dream of beautiful things…_

_I dream of Salem Cousland._

* * *

I withdraw from the memory and look on the face of my wife. I lift her fevered, motionless hand to my lips and kiss it.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." I tell her, trailing my finger over the thin white scar in the center of her palm. "But please, Salem, _please_. Give me more than dreams."

"Well," the door opened and an angel appeared, white hair tied back, blue eyes fierce with determination, "this brings back the most unpleasant sort of memories."

"Wynne." I breathed a sigh of relief as the senior enchanter embraced me before turning her attention to Salem. "Thank the Maker you're here."

The healer ran her hands over Salem's body, a frown pursing her lips. Her diagnostic spell faded and she took Salem's hand. "Good girl." she praised, then turned to me. "Leliana, my child, this is a miracle."

"Wynne, I…I don't understand." I stepped closer to my warden's body.

"The infection is severe." Wynne informed me, moving her hands over Salem's chest. "So much so that she should have left this world long before now." the healer met my eyes, smiling. "She is _fighting_, Leliana. And we shall help her win."

Joy swelled in my heart and I grasped Salem's hand in my own, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Keep fighting, my love." I urged her. "A little longer. I am waiting for you."


	21. Chapter 21

**Salem**

All that registered was blinding pain. Liquid fire raced through my veins and I heard someone screaming…myself. My throat was raw and I tasted blood, thick in my mouth. My eyes flashed open, feeling as though salt had been poured into them. It was dark, cold, and there…there were hands…glowing hands…pressure on my chest.

_Healing…magic…_

"Salem, Salem, _listen._" a warm hand took mine and the scent of spring rain overwhelmed the stink of blood and fear.

_Leliana_.

I squeezed her hand, clinging to her, anchoring myself in her, biting back the screams in my throat. The pain faded as I became grateful for it, accepting that it was dragging me across the ever blurring line between life and death.

"Close your eyes, my love." she whispered, pressing her lips to my cheek. "Close your eyes. I am here and it's almost over."

_You have…no idea…of the truth of those words_, I thought as the pressure on my chest eased.

"Much better." I heard a voice equally as dear to me.

"Is she out of danger?" Leliana asked, and I could hear the weariness and fear in her tone.

"For the moment, yes." Wynne reassured her and Leliana's sigh of relief sent joy into my aching heart. "She will need time to recover fully. It is quite possible that the fever will return, but that is natural and should not cause too much concern. Your physician friend did an excellent job of repairing the damage done by the knife, but we will have to watch carefully for continued internal bleeding."

"Can she be moved?" Leliana squeezed my hand, a reminder to remain still, to hold on.

I felt the cold of the stone table beneath me and nearly wept with the knowledge that Leliana desired my comfort…even after everything I had put her through.

_I have been so unfair…so selfish. How foolish was I to believe that I could carry everything myself, that I could let her go without protest. I __**need **__her, I __**love**__ her, and I want to be a source of her happiness, not a constant cause of sorrow. _

"Salem," Wynne's voice, close to me, "open your eyes, dear girl."

I opened my eyes and looked at Wynne, mustering an upward quirk of my lips. "Thank…you." I rasped, hoping that this would be the last time that the senior enchanter's eyes filled with tears for my sake.

"My pleasure." Wynne brushed the moisture from her eyes and pursed her lips, adopting the stern healer's countenance that I remembered so well. "You are ordered to _rest_, Salem Cousland. No work, no strain, no _protestations_ that you are well enough to move. You will remain here and do _nothing_. In a few days, perhaps, you might be able to make your way to more comfortable accommodations, but in your current condition, you _must_ remain still. Do you understand?"

"As…you say." I gasped, finding that any attempt to take a deep breath was thwarted by a deep ache in my right side.

_Where Esmerelle drove her blade. That scheming bitch…no. No. Such thoughts can be put aside. _

"Leliana, I will go and speak with the Chantry sisters and see if anything can be found to make her more comfortable." Wynne patted my wife on the shoulder and left the room, leaving us alone in the moonlight.

Leliana came to my side, her eyes wet with tears, ringed with the dark circles of exhaustion. Color had drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale. But, as ever, I saw only her beauty.

"Can you…ever…forgive me?" I whispered, watching her lips tremble, her eyes fill with tears.

"Salem, you…" her voice broke, choked off by a sob.

"Did wrong." I forced my hand to move, reaching up and grasping the sleeve of her shirt. "I…never meant…to hurt you and in…in that…I…I closed myself off…to everything. I…I'm sorry."

"Stop." she begged, taking my hand in both of hers and pressing her lips to it. "You…you almost died, Salem. Please do not burden yourself with guilt."

"Not…not guilt." I struggled to explain, even as pain fissured through my body and I coughed at the taste of blood and ash in my throat. "Truth. I…I _love_ you, Leliana. I…I promise…I will…I will change."

Her eyes widened with realization, the realization that I had _always_ kept my promises, that the dark-hearted, grieving, hell bent woman she had returned to would fade away. I had found life, I had found truth, and somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew I had seen the Maker, that we had spoken, and that I had been heard, but that my own bitterness had driven away any reply.

_I want to spend my time, however short it may be…I want to spend it in joy, in laughter, in __**love**__. Death can wait, for it is not peace, and it is not final, and I have been given such great gifts in this lifetime, gifts that I desire to hold close to me and cherish. _

"Will you?" Leliana asked, a heartbreaking hope in her gaze.

I removed my hand from hers and propped myself up on my elbows. Pain exploded in nauseating sparks, but I smiled. A _true_ smile, such as I had not experienced or offered since Leliana had departed with the Seekers.

"I swear it."

Pressure built in my chest and I started coughing, hard and harsh and brutal, gasping for breath as pain from the stab wound radiated down my weakened leg and through my spine. Leliana wrapped her arms around me, soothing her hand up and down my back until the coughing mercifully ceased. I leaned against her chest, shuddering as I attempted to breathe, hating that I could not take her in my arms and prove to her my promises.

Leliana eased me back onto the stone table. "Wynne told you not to move, you _idiot!_" she hissed, looking into my scarred eyes as her expression softened.

"Forgive me?" I smiled again, wincing as my side began to burn with an intensity that did not fade.

"Rest." Leliana placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Let me care for you."

"You…you look tired." I protested, wanting her to rest, to ease the lines of worry from her face.

"Watching your wife battle with death is rather stressing." she mitigated the harshness of her words with a gorgeous smile. "And I could not possibly rest when you are in obvious pain."

I opened my mouth to argue…stopped. _This is the beauty of my revelation. I…I __**cannot**__ keep forcing myself to pretend strength. I am human; I am vulnerable. I can accept love; I can __**accept **__forgiveness. _

"As you say."

Comfort filled me as her hand stroked through my lank hair, as her eyes looked into mine, brimming with emotion. "How badly are you hurting?" she asked, full of care and concern.

"It's horrible." I managed to confess, without pretense.

"I'm so sorry." she whispered. "So sorry that this happened, that I was not with you, that I have not _been_ with you."

"That…no longer matters." I felt time melt away to nothing, grievances and bitterness wash away. "Past…is past. Let us…begin anew. Please?"

Leliana left the table and returned with a cup that reeked of herbs. "Drink this." she lifted my head and lifted the cup to my lips. I drained the vile tonic and gazed with admiring eyes at my lovely wife.

"Yes." she set the cup aside and placed a tender kiss on my lips. "We will begin anew. Now please, please rest. The woman who nearly killed you still walks free, and I fear, if she discovers that you live, she will attempt to rectify her mistake."

"Do not…worry for that." I whispered, feeling the tension in my muscles ease as the herbs began their work. "It will…be resolved."

"Sleep." Leliana stroked her fingers along my arm. "Escape the pain, Salem. For both our sakes."

"Can you," I closed my eyes, as she wished, "sing to me? I…I've missed your voice."

She took my hand in hers and a gentle, soft melody filled the air, a lullaby in a language I could not understand, but that did not matter. It was an angel's voice, an angel's gift, and I had never been so blessed as I was now…in this moment.


	22. Chapter 22

**Leliana**

_Where did you go?_ I wondered as I watched Salem's brow crease with dreaming. _What brought you back to me? The woman I saw in your eyes…she was so full of light, so full of love…she was the woman I remember leaving behind, the woman who has been my strength and shield and protector. The woman who showed me true kindness, true beauty. _

"Welcome back." I whispered, not caring that she would not remember my words, that she did not witness my unguarded emotion. "You have been sorely missed."

"She wanted nothing more than to return." a soft voice rang behind me and I turned, falling to my knees as silver eyes caught the light of the moon and smiled at me.

The Maker's lithe form drew close to Salem, and her gentle, delicate fingers traced over my lover's face.

"But she could not find her way." the beautiful, heart shaped lips trembled in an expression of great grief. "I sent her to walk through such a darkness, enamored by the fire of her heart and the light of her beliefs. But every strength has its weakness in equal measure, and I...I had forgotten...that the mortal heart can grow so weary."

I watched, in awe, as the Maker looked to the moon, stood bodily among her creations, and seemed to speak unto herself. "Perhaps," she continued, "perhaps, Leliana, it is not Andraste that failed, but I that failed her."

My heart thundered in my chest as I saw the grief of a god in full measure, a god so part and parcel with us that to witness such a beauty and sorrow devastated me. Tears fell from my eyes, called forth by the depth of sorrow in the Maker's gaze.

"Do not say such a thing." a prayer fell from my lips as I rose on my knees, unable to stand in the face of her presence. "You are the Maker, our creator and our guide and…and it is we who have failed you."

"I hear the prayers from mortal lips." the Maker shook her head, indigo curls swaying forth and back. "The cries and supplications. The Chantry says that when all have faith, that at last I will walk among them." she laughs and it is the sound of cracking rocks. "Little did they know that it would but take the faith and love of two beautiful, mortal souls."

I sat there, mute, unable to force my thoughts into cohesion, unable to speak in the face of a god in mortal form, flesh and blood, standing tangibly before me.

"You chose her." the Maker observed, turning from Salem to look me direct in the eye, unwavering. "After I set you in a place of power and set in your hands the tools to evoke change throughout Thedas, you chose her. Would you explain why, Leliana?"

I raised my hands in supplication, shuddering as I realized how grave a penalty I might have to pay for what I had decided. "Do you not already know my every thought, my Maker? Surely you can see…and understand."

"I want to hear it in your words." she stated, but her voice held no anger, no harshness, no judgment.

"I…" I inhaled, deep, attempting to form my thoughts, to speak as passionately and eloquently as I could…to persuade the heart of god. "…she has given me everything, my Maker. All that you saw in me and found worthy, she either built within me or restored from the rubble of what harsher hands had left. I owe her my life, and my sanity, and my faith, for only in her have I witnessed a love that achieves the level of what you have relayed to me as your wish for this earth. Forgive my mortal wants and desires, my Maker, but I wished only to return to her what gifts she has given me, and if desiring to love is a sin, then perhaps you might rethink your wishes for our world."

I rose to my feet, strengthened by the resolve of my own words, the beliefs that pounded in time with the blood in my veins. "If I have failed you, let me make my regret known." I spoke, feeling fire in my spirit and sparks in my soul. "And whatever punishment you desire to mete, I will accept it, as your humble servant."

I closed my eyes, awaiting her edicts, awaiting divine judgment for turning my back on a holy calling and title.

"This is the beauty of the mortal heart." the Maker whispered, but even that rang as thunder in my ears. "It's strength and capability to defy even a god. You have not angered me, Leliana, nor do I desire to cast upon you any form of punishment. I asked Andraste to abandon a mortal love for me, and though she promised and attempted to follow through, she never fully gave me her heart. I will not suffer the loss of another love, another prophet, another hope for my children. You have chosen well, Leliana, though the puppet who speaks for the liar who proclaims to define me will attempt to convince you otherwise. Do not be dissuaded, my child. This is my gift to _you_, so that you will know my promises and dreams made flesh, so that your words might ring with further truth when you carry them to mortal ears. I have but one request."

"Name it." my throat ached with unexpressed emotion and my heart ached with such a ferocity I thought I might burst.

"Love her _well_." the Maker cast a fond glance on Salem, filled with a mother's eternal love and grief. "I…I have let her remain broken for far too long. And though she held me away with the force of heavens colliding, I…I have wronged her. Perhaps now, things can be set aright. Perhaps, Leliana, this is the first of my mistakes that you can remedy. Thank you, my daughter."

"As…as you say." I wiped the tears from my face as the Maker smiled at me, vanishing at the sound of an opening door and approaching footsteps.

"Lady Cousland?" I turned to face Seneschal Varel. He took one look at my face and backed away, lowering his head. "Is all well? Have I come at an inopportune time?"

"N…no." I regained full control of my voice, though my mind spun in a chaotic whirl.

"How," Varel looked past me to Salem, "how is the arlessa? Is she going to recover?"

"By the Maker's grace." I replied, overjoyed that I had good news to give the man who so obviously cared for her life. "She is resting now. Is there anything I might help you with?"

Varel brushed a feather from his shoulder and sighed. "I have spent all the day sending messenger birds forth and back to Denerim, apprising King Alistair of the situation here." the man sighed, seeming entirely too world-weary. He pulled a rolled parchment from his satchel. "I inquired if Esmerelle should be brought to trial, and the king replied that if Salem named Esmerelle her attacker, that her word served as evidence enough in his eyes."

"As well it should." I pursed my lips, dreading to think of my wife's would-be assassin jailed for months until her trial.

"I wholeheartedly agree." Varel smiled, handing me the parchment. "That is a Writ of Execution, signed and sealed by the king's own hand."

I opened the scroll and read the death sentence, smiling at Alistair's familiar, decidedly un-kingly scrawl at the bottom of it.

_Some things will never change. The man may be every inch a king, but his penmanship will always be ridiculously desultory. _

"This seems well in order." I handed it back to the seneschal, wondering why worry lines creased his forehead. "What is it that troubles you?"

"Esmerelle is the Bann of this very city." Varel frowned. "She has at least a hundred loyal knights at her command, not to mention the support of many of the lesser vassals, who will offer her what protection they can. Our resources are simply spread too thin, and Salem is obviously not well enough…and she is the sole one who could storm Esmerelle's gates. If I attempted to enact this writ, it would be a massacre."

I bit my lip as a crafty smile crossed my face. "There is to be no trial?" I looked to the seneschal for confirmation.

He shook his head. "None."

_Salem would have my head if I took matters into my own hands…but she would never defy the written edict of Alistair, her friend and king. And justice must be done swiftly, lest these upstarts think they have a chance of success. _

"Give me the writ." I asked, extending my hand, into which Varel placed the parchment. "And worry about this no further. I shall see to the handling of this matter."

"Milady, are you certain?" he asked, his blue eyes widening.

"As ever I have been." I assured him. "If I have not returned when she wakes, simply inform of her of King Alistair's decree. She will be able to complete the picture."

"Of course, milady." Varel gave a curt bow from the waist and I slipped into the shadows, headed towards my small room and the tools I would need for this particular venture.

_The gift of love and the gift of justice. I am a twice blessed woman this night. _

Blood began thrumming fever hot in my veins, a song once despised, now embraced. For love made all things, even those tainted with dark memories, new again…and welcome.


	23. Chapter 23

**Salem**

"Maker's blood-soaked breath." an Orlesian accent cut through the haze of waking coherence.

I opened my eyes to see, through the dim moonlight, a woman I recognized from a night of great pain…much like this one.

Only on that night, my flesh had not been torn; my blood had not been spilled. No. My still bleeding heart had been torn from my chest and placed on a pike. _But that no longer matters. I have been willing to forgive fate, but not my past…not until now. _

"Arlessa Cousland." she looked into my eyes, then quickly away.

I mustered a weak grin. "I thought I told you, when first we met, that you would win no love from me by use of titles. What brings you here, Kathyra?"

She shook her head. "Somehow, I expected more heat behind that question, even in your current condition."

"I've no desire to awaken past grievances." I shifted, biting back a groan as fire shot up my side. "Should you not be resting?"

She smiled…a grin I recognized from somewhere…a long distant memory buried in a haze of blood.

"I slept the whole day through." she told me, moving aside the layer of blankets that had managed to appear in between my odd periods of consciousness. "And I thought I had best come and check on my patient."

_Your physician friend…_Wynne's words to Leliana echoed in my thoughts and I gazed at the Seeker yet again, remembering the casual calm with which she had worn armor, the strength with which she had stayed a swordsman's hand. She did not seem the type given to a study and love of healing…

_But, upon a time, I would never have fancied myself a warden. Who am I to ascertain what does or does not drive a soul? For at one time, I pushed myself forward with duty, only later to continue along that path for the sake of love. _

"Then it would seem," I lifted a shaking hand out from beneath the covers and extended it, "that I owe you my life, Seeker Kathyra. And I thank you for it."

"You owe me nothing." she shook her head and lowered my hand with a gentle touch. "I aided in the taking of what did not belong to us and have since walked roads I have no right to travel."

"You saved lives that night, Seeker." I rested my head against the pillow as a familiar ache pulsed between my temples. "Mine, Leliana's, and the High Seeker's. If you still consider such an action a crime, then I offer my forgiveness, for what little it might be worth."

Her eyes flashed to mine, a brilliant shine in the dark green that I did not recognize. "The two of you…" she muttered, slicing deftly through the bandages wrapped around my torso without breaking skin…a difficult skill to master. "…you are simply unfathomable. In truth, arlessa…"

"Salem." I corrected, gentle. "Wynne named you Leliana's friend. If you have, in truth, shown her kindness, the least I can offer you is my name."

"I…I have shown her what kindness I am able." the physician's voice lowered with grief as she gently probed the wound, eliciting a hitch in my breath. "But that is a discussion for another time, when both of us are in better health."

"In that vein," I cursed under my breath as she pressed against my side, "what is your verdict?"

"I…" she tucked her ash-blonde hair behind her ears, "…I am shocked that you are alive. The blade had been twisted, and jarred considerably during your travel. It nicked your kidney, allowing a grievous amount of toxins into your blood stream. You should have died from the infection well before the mage returned."

_If only you knew, Kathyra, how close I ventured once more to that peaceful, bleak edge. That the scars in my eyes have deepened with repeated looks into eternity. I am amazed that any can hold my gaze for even a moment…much less that Leliana can still look into it with love. I am…perhaps not quite mortal any longer, but somewhere, suspended between life and its ending…determined to finish the tale…driven by love. _

"I should have died many times." I whispered, closing my eyes against the pain as the Seeker continued to assess my condition.

"I…I know." her voice caught in her throat. "Maker's blood, the scarring. Forgive my forthrightness, Salem but…but I have never seen such horrors on a human body. A physician's hands know broken bones…your ribs, your breast bone, your leg. I have witnessed the victims of torture; I have repaired the flesh of a thousand wounded knights, and still have I never seen such a landscape of damage."

I laughed, breathy, still unable to inhale deeply. "I have lived a life no knight could countenance. And I have suffered in its living. I have been scorched by dragon's flames, bathed in the blood of a tainted god, torn by the swords of fallen heroes, and, most recently…betrayed by one sworn to follow me."

"You lead a charmed life, so it would seem." Kathyra took a jar of something and began to rub a stinging salve into the wound. "I apologize for the discomfort, but it will aid in preventing further infection."

"Thank…you…" I hissed between gritted teeth.

"You seem as a woman who appreciates honesty, and therefore I will give you the truth." Kathyra sighed, wiping her hands on a cloth and closing the jar. "You are not yet out of danger. The mage was able to clean your blood of toxins, but it is quite possible that the damage to the organ might result in another recurrence. It is why you must remain as still as possible…and the reason for your lack of a comfortable resting place."

"I have no need of creature comforts." I winced as the initial sting of the salve faded into a deep burn. "This stone table is a far better resting place than the floor of the Deep Roads or Rendon Howe's fetid dungeons. I am quite content."

"Awake all this time, and asking for nothing to mitigate pain." Kathyra muttered. "Leliana told me that you were inhuman, but I thought it a lover's over-exaggeration…I see now I was wrong. The two of you are far beyond anything the legends have written."

"But we will have no legend, Kathyra." I reached out and touched the physician's hand with my own scarred one, drawing my her gaze toward my eyes. "In what tales are the heroes scarred, in what stories are the eyes of a savior so mutilated that they inspire fear? I am…but a story that will fade. Leliana…Leliana is another matter entirely. She will live on…a large, expansive life that defies human comprehension."

The physician's expression changed, from confusion to understanding and sorrow. "I know…but she will not depart with us, when we leave."

Hope surged in my heart, the increased beating of it sending pain in dizzying shockwaves across my body. "Has she…has she confided to you as much?"

"No." the physician brought her hand to her eyes, wiping away tears I could not see. "No...but Leliana is not the sort to abandon her heart. And that…that is you. Inasmuch as I wish it could be the Seekers…Maker's breath, the lives she has changed already, but…she deserves a home. A life…"

As Kathyra's brow creased I realized…I realized the reason for her tears, for the sorrow in her eyes and the pain in her voice.

"You…," I spoke, "…the reason you helped me…"

"Yes." she nodded, confirming my suspicion. "I understand if you cannot forgive me this, Salem, but…I am in love with your wife."


	24. Chapter 24

**Leliana**

_She is **good**_. I thought, staring up at the single lit window of Esmerelle's manse. _Most of the Orlesian fools, when learning of their victim's demise, would throw a extravagant party to celebrate their victory. Not so this woman…which can mean but one thing. Salem's death was not the endgame. There is more afoot than it would seem. _

"And now, for the guards." I adjusted the Chantry robes that I had…borrowed…bowed my head as a proper lady should, and approached the massive wrought iron gate that led to Esmerelle's mansion.

Two spears crossed in front of me and I raised my eyes, knowing that the guards would see the face of a distraught young woman.

"What might a Chantry sister want at this hour?" one of them asked in a gruff, whiskey-stained voice.

"I…" I kept my voice low, hiding traces of my accent, "…I have news for milady Esmerelle. I am certain, ser, that this communication was meant to come directly into her hands…but a hawk struck down a messenger bird over our gardens, and the Revered Mother found this tied to its foot." I held out the writ of execution, careful to let them see only Alistair's seal and signature. "I've not read it…but with the death of the arlessa…I thought it would be best to deliver this in person."

_Present your reason, a plausible story, a taste of the truth…then snare them in the lie and achieve your goal. _

"Looks t'be the king's seal, all right." one guard looked to the other. "An' milady would want the information without delay. Give me the letter, sister, an' be off with you."

I clutched the letter tight to my chest, pretending to tremble at their might and weapons. "I p…promised the Revered Mother I'd not let it out of my sight. Please, I intend the lady no harm."

"But you know of the arlessa's death?" the more well-spoken guard's eyes slanted at me.

"'Twas…" I took a deep breath, preparing to say words that were a consummate lie, that I could _never_ imagine speaking in truth, "…'twas a deed needed doing, ser. Our king is a Theirin proper, but Salem Cousland came to Amaranthine unblooded and untried, and by the Maker's grace, Bann Esmerelle has saved us all."

I wanted to spit the bitter taste of my lies from my mouth, but I could not, for one of the guards grasped me roughly by the arm and escorted me through the gates, across the grounds, up the stairs, and into the cold, dank air of Esmerelle's mansion. I shivered as an ominous chill ran through me, a remembered horror.

_This is a dark place_, I realized as the guard escorted me deeper into the manse, up the slick stone stairway. _A place of torment, of torture…such places all have a kindred spirit and I have felt this before. In Howe's Denerim estate…in Val Royeaux. And now…here. What is it that turns nobles into madmen? And how has Salem found herself immune?_

The guard kept his hand on my arm, unaware that with an artful twist, I could break the bone in three places. I held Alistair's writ of execution closely against my chest, unwilling to let go of it, no matter how circumstances might change.

The guard rapped on a heavy oaken door, and I could swear that I heard screams from behind it, voices of phantom pain and innocents who had suffered. _Under Howe's rule_, I fought the urge to clench my fists, unwilling to reveal any emotion, _so many suffered, and Salem one of them. How could…how could Cailan have let such practices continue? By Salem and Alistair's descriptions both, he was not a __**bad**__ man…_

"Milady Esmerelle," the guard spoke, "I've a sister from the Chantry, got a letter for you from the King."

"Enter." an austere, authoritative voice rang from behind the door.

The guard opened it and led me into an opulent room. Plush carpets covered the stone floors, and a hearth fire burned brightly, illuminating a wall hung with portraits framed in gold. A large mahogany desk, wood from the islands inhabited by the qunari, difficult and _costly_ to procure, stood in the center of the room, its four giant legs capped in silver.

_And this extravagance was held onto in the midst of the __**Blight! **_my senses screamed. _A noblewoman was cast from wealth and power into ignominy and the harsh fate of tainted blood and you, you vipers, you vampires, you wretched, murderous __**fiends**__, stood back and did nothing! No matter their crimes most recent, all who remained like __**this **__should be executed for war crimes and high treason against the crown!_

A woman rose from behind the desk, an inordinate mirth in her eyes, her hair severely tied back, and a glass of celebratory wine in her hand. She glanced to the guard and flicked a dismissive finger. "You may go." she said in a haughty, imperious voice, with none of the roughness I attributed to a Ferelden accent.

The guard departed, leaving me alone with the woman who had driven her blade into Salem's body, who now drank in celebration of her supposed death.

"Well do not just stand there, sister." her words cracked across stone and carpet like a whip. "Deliver your missive and go."

"O…of course, milady." I strode forward, keeping my head lowered, extending the writ in a hand that I forced to tremble.

She snatched it out of my hand and lowered the flap, revealing the king's seal. She did not open it further, instead glaring at me down her hawk-like nose.

"And pray tell me how such an important document fell into your hands?" she asked, lifting an accusatory brow.

"An unfortunate coincidence, milady." I explained. "The king's messenger bird was felled by a hawk above the Chantry gardens. With…with the arlessa dead, the Revered Mother thought it best that I deliver it to you, as you are the most powerful noble remaining in Amaranthine."

A smile curled her thin, churlish lips as my words stoked her pride. "I was the most powerful noble in Amaranthine, no matter what that ill-fated whelp might have thought herself. Hero of Ferelden…ha!" she scoffed, and my heart burned with wrath. "The stories are but stories…a warrior who could slay a dragon while blind and fell a god would _not_ fall prey to the machinations of a mere vassal, would she, sister?"

I knew that she did not expect an answer, as she turned her attention fully to the writ, her face paling as she read the order for her execution, not the elevation of position she had expected. She turned to me, her eyes alight with wrath and a taste of her own tincture…betrayal.

"_What_," she demanded, "_is the meaning of __**this!?**_"

I raised my head, shattering the disguise of a diminutive Chantry sister. "That," I spoke, with my true voice, "is a writ of execution, signed by the king's own hand. And my role, in this _funny_ little play," I smiled, a jovial, non-chalant grin, "is that of your executioner."


	25. Chapter 25

**Salem**

I waited for the shock, the surprise, even anger…finding that none of them were present. _How can I…how can I fault anyone for falling in love with her? I, who came a hair's breadth from ultimate betrayal…and Leliana is worthy of love. She is worthy of devotion. I saw the admiration in the young templar's eyes when we spoke…admiration and a form of love. A selfish heart can never be a loving one. _

"Why tell me?" I asked, intrigued by her confession, her honesty…and the note of regret that haunted the revelation.

Kathyra turned her face away, unwilling to meet my eyes. "I…there was no other to tell, and you are not exactly able to throttle me about the neck at this juncture."

The glint of dark, desperate humor made me smile. "Did you expect words of anger?" I inquired. "Warnings, threats, and promises of violence? What have you ever done to me, Kathyra, to earn such things?"

"Maker's breath!" she exclaimed, wiping yet more tears from her cheeks. "I…I know her love for you is immutable…stronger than the Divine's threats and promises. I see why, Salem. I see why…why she could never look on me with anything other than friendship and yet I…I _crave_ what the two of you have given to each other."

Compassion filled my heart for the Seeker. I could see the remnants of terrible pain in the set of her shoulders; that her deep green eyes screamed with nightmares that I could not comprehend. I knew that she sought what every single soul set to walk the earth dreamed of.

"We are not without our flaws." I whispered. "For every bright star of loveliness there are galaxies of pain."

"I know." she craned her neck, looking at the ceiling and through it, to the sky beyond. "I know for I have so long wandered in the land of dying stars. Serving the greater good, following in the footsteps of Andraste, carrying out the will of the Divine and finding nothing…nothing but empty skies and moonless nights and loneliness and longing. And then…everything changed."

"Tell me." I urged, feeling the wounds in the Seeker's heart, sick and screaming with the infection of emotion too long held in silence.

"That night…Maker's blood-soaked paradise, it all falls back to that night." she shook her head in something akin to disgust. "When I saw you, without hesitation, attack one of the most powerful people in this godforsaken land…I thought to myself 'what madness is this? What reason would drive a person renowned for their clear-headed decisions into insanity?' And then I saw the way she _looked_ at you…just…it was fierce, and quiet, and so _fucking_ bright I thought it would blind me. That is why…why I intervened. I could not wrong her…not again."

"Again?" I asked, wondering at Kathyra's choice of words.

She laughed, bitter and cold. "I have confessed to you my greatest sin; why not speak to you of my history? I have confided this to Leliana, so please harbor no ill-will toward me…I understand if you must…I am the elder sister of Marjolaine of Orlais."

The anger did burn then, hot and fierce, with only the pain radiating through me to stay my hand and gentle my voice. "You…you knew? You knew of what befell her and you did _nothing_?"

Her shoulders began to shake with heart-wrenching sobs that tore at my very soul, so full of grief and sorrow were they. "I…I cannot expect you…to understand. I…I knew nothing…not until it was too late…I should have, I wanted to, but I…I…she _forgave me, Salem!_ I told her _everything_ and still she forgave me!"

I warred with the rage in my soul. _My only wish…my only desire has been to go back and undo what was done to Leliana, to spare her that pain, the scars, the horrific nightmares that trouble her still. To give her back the beauty that she presumed stolen…and now I find…there is one living of the bloodline that so thoroughly destroyed her…and yet Kathyra says she was forgiven…and I __**know**__ Leliana. There is no doubt in me as to the truth of those words. _

I forced my breathing to steady and my heart to calm. I reached out and took the physician's trembling hand. "I will not question your love of her." I spoke. "She is a savior born, and unaware. It would appear that she pulled from us both the poison of our pain, and, in her own way, forged our nightmares into dreams."

"I am so sorry." the physician breathed. "I never…never meant to speak a word, to say anything to another, least of all to you…and heaven forbid I tell Leliana. Such a thing…such a thing would be unforgivable. Please, Salem, do not hold this against me."

_How could I, when I see the measure of your grief? For to love is to bleed, and to listen to the will of the heart is to break bones, and these things are when the emotion is lived and obeyed. To hold it silent within yourself is but slow torture of the soul, a poison moving languidly, scorching, eating away the blood. _

"How can I hold it against you?" I asked. "You…you saved me, not out of any compulsion but your love of her…knowing as you did that you could have been my salvation or my death. That you could have taken what you desired, explaining it away as but an unwinnable battle. Instead…"

"For her." Kathyra agreed, her voice muted by tears. "Maker bless us both to hell, I did it for her. The look in her eyes when the seneschal came in, screaming that you were wounded. I have never seen such an expression of absolute devastation, such fear of loss. I…it…how wrong is it that the only gift I could give her as an expression of love is the life of the one who will take her away?"

"You do not know that." I whispered, haunted by fears of my own. "Leliana's fate is beyond mortal comprehension. She has…she has left me before, Kathyra. This time may be no different."

"It will be." the physician spoke, once again lighting a terrible hope in my heart. "I…I should go. Please, Salem…I had no right to confide this to you…forgive me for this burden on your shoulders…so long too weary. I only ask…I only ask…"

"I will not tell her, Kathyra." I assured the Seeker, tormented by the pain of a love unrequited, realizing how truly fortunate I had been that Leliana's path had led her to me, and that our love had been blessed…that it was not a ghost of lingering hope in a weary, weary heart. "And I thank you…"

"Thank me?" she asked, bewildered. "Whatever for?"

"For heeding the will of your better heart. For giving me my life, what little is left of it."

"Salem," the physician looked into my eyes, wincing as she did, "all I know…all I know, in this moment, is the sheer magnitude of her love for you. Because I…I cannot bear to look into your eyes." she averted her gaze, shame haunting her features, so similar to those of the woman I had killed in defense of my beloved.

With those harsh words, so full of truth, the physician turned her back and left the room, seeming so world-weary and distraught that I could not but give her some flicker of hope.

_Hope. Because it has been torn from me, and given again and again and again. Hope, for what time is given me is so very, very little. Hope. Because without it, the human soul will perish, and Kathyra has proven herself, in my eyes and Leliana's, to be a truly __**good**__ woman. _

"Kathyra," I called, feeling slumber beckon me, "there is something…something you should know."

The Seeker turned to me, her brows lifted and her eyes so very, very tired. "Yes?"

"Leliana," I smiled at the taste and flavor of her name, and tears filled my eyes from memories and their truth, "Leliana never leaves something…but that she returns to it."


	26. Chapter 26

**Leliana**

Esmerelle did not back away. Instead, she smiled, placed her hands atop her desk, and leaned forward in a position that screamed of confrontation.

"Is this the Ferelden I have bled for?" she asked, and the firelight glinted off her too-white teeth. "A country that would send foreigners to exact the king's justice?"

"Is this the woman who would rule a territory?" I parried, all salt and insouciance. "One who would judge a heritage based upon so fleeting a marker as an accent? Not to mention my extreme doubt that you have even torn your nails in defense of this land…unlike some."

_Unlike me. This land…where I was born…where my blood and that of the woman I love has been spilled so many times over. How __**dare**__ she make this claim!? How dare she hold herself alongside the likes of those such as Salem Cousland…the woman who __**is**__ this land?_

"Oh?" Esmerelle moved from behind her desk, sinuous, like a great, lithe mountain cat. "Are you one of those who fell beneath the warden's spell? Are you here to enact 'the king's justice,' as you say, out of some misguided sense of hero worship? That woman perished on the end of my knife. If strength and decisiveness are qualities that fitting leaders must lack, then I am afraid I have held this city under false pretenses."

My jaw clenched at the dismissive tone with which she spoke, that she referenced Salem as though she were a dog in need of a mercy killing. Something weak, fragile, to be toyed with. Lost, yes. Burdened, yes. But never weak.

"Strength and decisiveness?" I questioned, reaching beneath my sleeve and grabbing the hilt of my knife, a particular weapon that I had not needed to use in what seemed like an eternity.

_A blade for treachery_, Marjolaine's words, icy and conniving, _a blade for secrets. My gift to you, pretty thing. _

"Yes." Esmerelle's eyes lit. "Fitting qualities in an arlessa, would you not think? We needn't find ourselves at odds, Chantry girl…though…" her eyes slanted at me, "I highly doubt that is the _truth_ of what you are. I could make you very wealthy, sate your mind so that you forget this," she fluttered the paper, "little triviality."

_Triviality? You attempted to kill my __**wife!**_

"Gold has long since lost its lustre in my eyes. There are far worthier causes in life, and I am not in the least tempted by your offer."

"An Orlesian…forsaking wealth?" Esmerelle stepped closer, thinking that I did not notice her ever so soft, ever so predictable approach. "How very amusing. I have bargained with your kind, Chantry girl. Name your price, and I will meet it."

"Your mind could never fathom the wealth I possess already." _Love, acceptance, patience, beauty…all things Salem has given me. _"I cannot be purchased, and you cannot escape."

"Had I so desired, I could have called my guards down upon you like a pack of wolves the instant you dropped your pretense." Esmerelle snarled. "You are in the belly of the beast, my dear; I suggest you find a price or the cost _will be_ your life."

"So be it."

I called her bluff, knowing that I had tested her pride to its limit. She had been taken in by my ruse, and a woman such as Esmerelle would let none other accomplish what she thought were _her_ tasks…that was why _her_ knife, in _her_ hand, had pierced Salem's body.

_And it is the reason she will not call for aid. Any moment now…_

Esmerelle lunged, pulling a blade, carefully concealed at her back, from its sheath. I dodged the swipe with a minute movement, toying with her as her attacks became more frantic and frustrated. I lifted the catch on my wrist sheath, preparing my own weapon as I turned away from a slash to my side.

"You…damn…dancing harpy!" Esmerelle shrilled, cutting through thin air in the place I had stood not mere moments before.

_It is a dance_, I thought, lifting my hand and striking her wrist, bruising the tender skin and veins, as she aimed the knife for my torso.

Esmerelle grimaced, but continued her attack, determined to prove her strength, her ability, her willingness to kill in order to flee from justice. Her blade whispered through my hair as I stepped backwards, smiling at her as her breathing grew harsher; as she gathered herself for one final assault.

She thrust for my throat and I clapped her blade between my hands, stepping back and pulling her forward, twisting the knife until it fell from her grip. She backpedaled and I followed, curling my hand into a fist, the knuckle of my index finger protruding. I brought it, with gentle pressure, against Esmerelle's skin, on the left side of her throat, where neck met jaw. A quick thrust into the sensitive pressure point sent Esmerelle to her knees, clutching her throat, gasping for breath.

I took the writ of execution from where it had fallen on the floor, and thrust it into Esmerelle's face. Her skin had grown pale as she continued to breathe in short, choking spurts. I pulled my knife from its place and held the gleaming blade before Esmerelle. I knelt before her, a smile perched on my lips.

"This, Esmerelle," I placed the writ over her heart, a message and a promise, that none could escape, "is strength, decisiveness…and justice."

I brought my blade down, piercing the writ to her chest, watching as her face paled yet further, as blood began to stain the paper trapped beneath the knife. Esmerelle's eyes gazed at me, wrathful, fearful, haunted and hunted.

"And this…" I softened my tone, removing the knife, thumbing a catch in the grip that released, by virtue of a dwarven crafted spring, the blade from its resting place in the hilt. Only a bead of blood gleamed on the tip…it had barely broken skin. "…is mercy."

Shock spiraled across Esmerelle's face as she stared down at the writ, at her heart, which remained undamaged, still intact, beating, whole.

"What is…the meaning…of this?" she panted as she began to tremble from fear. "You were…surely…going to…kill me."

"Death takes many forms, Esmerelle." I tucked my blade away. "And I would see you meet justice at the hands of a woman far, far more intuitive than I, who is certain to mete an appropriate punishment for your crimes."

"W…who?" Esmerelle struggled to rise and I clamped my hand on her shoulder, preventing her movements.

"The woman you attempted to kill, of course." I pressed my thumb against the pressure point that had felled her, leant by her ear, and whispered. "You _failed_, Esmerelle. Remember that, and _fear_ as you never have before."

I gouged my thumb into the sensitive bundle of nerves and Esmerelle crumpled to the ground. I quickly rolled the writ and tucked it inside my sleeve before letting out an ear-splitting the shriek.

A noxious clatter filled the room as four guards poured in, swords drawn. "What is it?" one of them asked, looking around. "What happened?"

I stood, backing away from Esmerelle's prone form, placing a trembling hand against my mouth, which hung open in feigned shock. "The…milady just collapsed. Oh, ser, I fear she might be ill!"

"Fetch a healer." the guard snapped, and two of his fellows rushed out.

"Ser, there's…there's no time." I pleaded, looking at him with fearful, beseeching eyes. "The letter…King Alistair has appointed Esmerelle arlessa of Amaranthine…she must be seen to as _soon_ as possible, and the Chantry is not far. Please, ser, we have skilled healers there."

He paused, looking between his mistress and me, the scared, frightened, eager-to-aid lay sister. "As you say."

He sheathed his sword and lifted Esmerelle's limp body in his arms, nodding to me as he adjusted to his burden.

"Lead the way, sister."

"Of…of course, ser." I replied, timid, moving through the door, but not without a practiced, worried glance backward.

_A life for a life and the whole world dies_, I recalled Zevran's thoughts on the subject of his work. _But find what makes a man fear, find what makes him tremble in the night, become that nightmare, and death has a new face, a face that taunts the living. Mercy can be more cruel than death, if meted in the hands of someone possessing wisdom._

_And who, _I asked myself, feeling the warm glow of pride, _is more wise than the woman who knitted together a fragemented country, my fragmented heart, and made both of them whole?_


	27. Chapter 27

**Salem**

"I recognize that look." the rising sun illuminated the figure of my wife leaning against the doorway, her head pillowed on her hand, her gorgeous, tousled hair turned to a fiery halo.

My breath left in a rush that made me wince, but I did not care. This sight made everything, the wounds, the pain, the burdens…worth it. It always had. Even soot-stained and soaked in blood, Leliana had always stolen my breath away.

"What look?" I raised a single eyebrow, filled with joy as her lips widened in a smile.

"The one you were wearing just now." she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her without a sound. "That mixture of frustration, discontent, and stubbornness."

I propped myself up on my elbow and she frowned, glaring at me, even though her eyes were dancing. "None of that." even her disapproval seemed mixed with a hint of joy. "_You_, madame, will keep from movement until Wynne or Kathyra say otherwise."

I pursed my lips and slumped back against the pillow, heaving an over-dramatic sigh. "As you say." I muttered, unable to understand the lightness in my heart, a sharp edge against the gnawing pain, gentling it, calming it, making it seem as nothing.

"Salem," she chided, moving to stand beside me and looking into my scarred and terrifying eyes without flinching, without recoiling, without my asking, "such a look does not suit you. It dampens the inherent nobility of your features."

"Ha!" I scoffed, immediately regretting it as my side twinged and the deep pain beneath the skin rose from a dull ache to a fresh fury.

"I'm sorry." Leliana stroked her fingers through my hair as I closed my eyes and hissed at the renewed onslaught.

"Think…nothing…of it." I managed, determined to smile, intent on remaining in this state of bliss, no matter my pain.

_Here, I can pretend. I can dwell in this moment alone, not thinking of futures, not dreaming of what might be. Here, though I cannot hold her, nor stand to press her against me, I can cherish her presence…I can live, truly __**live**__ as I have never allowed myself. _

Her lips trembled and the light in her eyes dampened as she sat on the edge of the stone table, idly stroking the scars on my hand. "I have brought a gift for you, Salem." she spoke, but the edges of her words were tinged with shadows. "And it is one I am afraid you might not thank me for."

I wanted to sit up, rest my hand on her shoulder, tuck my chin against her collarbone, kiss her neck, whisper reassurances. All I could manage was to lift my palm and squeeze her hand. "Tell me." I said, watching the strengthening sunlight enhance the radiance of her features; falling in love with her for the thousandth time.

"Varel sent word to Alistair," she looked at me, her eyes so serious that my smile dimmed, "of what had happened to you. Alistair replied with a writ of execution for Bann Esmerelle, signed and sealed by his own hand. I went to her estate yesternight."

_What?_ my thoughts began to race. _Leliana, did you…why? Esmerelle must be dealt with, yes, but this…I wanted to take you from secrets and shadows and knives in the dark. Have I failed yet again, dear heart? _

I steeled myself for the question hovering on my lips…and asked it. "What…what happened, Leliana?"

She averted her eyes, afraid of my disapproval. "I…I wanted her blood, Salem. She nearly took you from me. You've no idea how many oaths of vengeance I took the day you lay here, burning with fever, crying with visions, fighting for your very life. Everything within me screamed for retribution, and then the means to take it, within the confines of justice and the law, fell into my hands."

My jaw tightened to the point of pain and the heat of tears burned behind my eyes. _Not for me, Leliana. _

"But," she continued, and hope pulsed strong through my veins, "I find myself continually changed by you. Marjolaine's Leliana would have brought down hellfire and shadowed wrath, made the streets red with blood and gloried in the taking of vengeance. But you taught me that the hand that wields weapons must be ruled by the heart that knows mercy. I am…I am still learning such things, Salem."

_You are all that is mercy, Leliana. You gave my pain a resolve, you gave my destiny a future, you gave my breath a purpose. In a time I thought myself abandoned by all gods, new and ancient, you remained beside me, reminding me that I was not alone. _

"You have all that you need, dear heart." I whispered, needing to reassure her, even though I did not know the ending.

"Not all. Not yet." she shook her head, chasing away whatever thoughts had brought those words from her. "I tricked her, Salem. Made her believe that the writ was the king's proclamation of her as the new arlessa. When she discovered my ruse, she attacked. I subdued her, and brought her here…where she now sleeps, awaiting your judgment."

Admiration filled me, driving away my misgivings as I looked into my wife's earnest eyes. _You are so __**radiant**__, Leliana. There are no words, should I search all the languages of men, elves, and dwarves, should I plunder the dragon's ancient knowledge, should I speak once more to the Maker, to describe you. _

"Leliana Cousland," I breathed, "you render me speechless. _How. You. __**Shine**_."

"Then…you are not angry?" she asked. "I…I did not know what else to do, Salem. I did not want to burden you yet again…but this is your land now, and if I know one thing of you, it is this: in your kindness, you would strip the harsh moments from all the world. It is the first reason I fell in love with you. I could not betray that."

I said nothing, simply let tears fall from my eyes, brought to my knees by the Maker's twisted grace. Leliana brushed them away, her touch leaving sparks across my skin.

"I love you." I whispered, touched once again by the magnitude of the gift I had been given.

_The love of someone truly good. The heart of a woman whose soul is so radiant that the sun is weak by comparison. The immeasurable beauty of one who would strip from me a burden, then inquire if such a gift was unwanted._

"Salem, I…"

My heart sank as I heard the tone of her voice, the same notes hung heavy in the air as they had in the Frostback mountains, as they had that night in Highever.

"It's all right, Leliana." I assured her, reaching up and touching her arm. "I…I understand. I know, even though we have not spoken at length, I know you are not mine any longer. You are…you are meant for greater things and I…"

"Need to be silent." she smiled, running her thumb across my lower lips, stilling my words. "My destiny is mine, and you have shown me that my heart is mine as well. I gave it first to you, Salem. Others took, and others asked, but you were the first who allowed me to be mine. What…what I did, enforcing Alistair's writ and your authority…I am hoping that you will consider this my first action as Amaranthine's," her lips quirked in an adorable grin, "…_arl_?"

Shock rocketed to the core of me and I stared at her, open-mouthed, all pain forgotten. Hope scorched me, blistering in the affirmation that shone out from Leliana's ocean blue eyes.

"You…"

She leaned close, running her fingers across the scar on my cheek. "I will stay." she whispered, and it was the sweetest promise I had ever been given. "Whatever time we are given each other, I want it all. Every moment. With you. Can…can I have that, Salem?"

Overwhelmed with emotion, I could only nod, letting tears stream from my eyes…tears that she had returned to me, emotions that she had awakened. "Yes." I finally breathed.

Her lips pressed against mine in a blazing kiss, the pure white fire from it scouring through my veins, awakening every nerve, igniting every emotion, driving away every last trace of pain, both in body and spirit.

"Cruel." I gasped as she pulled away, leaving me hungry, leaving me longing, leaving me needy.

She tucked my hair behind my ear and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Heal quickly, my love." she wiped away a tear of her own. "We have too much time to make up for."

_But…but we have __**time.**__ At last. _


	28. Chapter 28

**Leliana**

"I don't like it." Kestrel pursed her lips, pacing in front of the fire. "While I know it is an eventuality, it still seems too soon...as though we would willingly borrow trouble."

"Were it normal circumstances," Sergeant Alan looked at the mage-templar, whose viridian eyes sparked like stars, "you would not even be here, Private. Keep that thought present when you speak your mind."

Kestrel's shoulders bunched and she visibly reigned herself in before replying. "Yes, sir."

"Private Ariyah is here at my request." Kathyra spoke, alleviating the tension that had crept into our impromptu meeting. "We have had quite the bit of time to get to know each other, and I value her opinion, Sergeant. In truth, I am considering sponsoring her recruitment into the order of Seekers."

Kestrel's eyes flared to mine, and the minute shaking of her head indicated her wishes. "Perhaps, in the future." I intervened, looking between the two of them, seeing a friendship had been forged between the physician and the templar.

_Kathyra could protect Kestrel's identity, and the mage-templar could prove invaluable in the hellish situations Cassandra seems bent on dragging her subordinates through. Maker…was this your intent? To draw this strange gathering together, to provide for each other so that I might…that I might live the full measure of the life that I desire? _

"Whatever the case," Sergeant Alan brought the conversation back to its beginning, "we must make our decision. Enough time has passed, and the healer mage has cleared both Lieutenant Kathyra and Private Rylie for travel, so long as they do not over-extend themselves. The Divine is waiting for our report, and the ship's captain is anxious to get his crew home."

_Four days have passed, _I thought, a small smile on my lips. _Salem is healing, and Esmerelle has been escorted to Vigil's Keep, under guard, to await her final judgment. Alan is correct. Everything is as it should be…it is time for another chapter of life to close, and a new one to begin. As unpleasant as the outcome may be, Cassandra has awakened, though Wynne has kept her sedated to avert trouble. _

"It is decided then." I sighed, dreading the revelation soon to come, looking to Kathyra, asking her to take the reins of leadership that had fallen into my hands by circumstance alone.

"Indeed." the physician rose from her seat near the hearth and straightened, seeming none the worse for wear, though she and Rylie both would wear scars from the battle. "I will speak to the healer mage tonight. Sergeant Alan, please tell the templars to muster out, and have the ship's captain prepare to return to Val Royeaux. Dismissed."

Alan snapped to attention and rendered a salute, turning on his heel and walking briskly from the room to disseminate Kathyra's orders. I remained with the two women who had shared with me their confidences, fought alongside me in battle, backed me against the most powerful warrior in the land. Kestrel glanced from me to Kathyra, reading the sorrow in our eyes, and interpreting the silence as only someone given to it, be they a bard or thief, could.

"Lieutenant," she asked, her soft voice barely audible, "might I have a moment alone to speak with Seeker Cousland?"

"Of course." Kathyra answered, walking a short distance away, enough to allow for discretion.

The mage-templar smiled at me. "You…you are not coming with us, are you?" she asked, and I shook my head. Kestrel sighed. "I thought not. I know this question is considered the question asked by untempered minds, but I must ask…why, Leliana? Why leave the place where you could effect such powerful change?"

I smiled at her, though it was laden with sorrow. "It is not yet time, Kestrel. What good are our lives if we do not live them as the Maker has ordained?"

A slight blush covered her cheeks. "I always wondered what sort of god would deny their prophet a right to their own life. I never understood how the entire world could derive inspiration from the story of Andraste…it seemed such a tragedy. But you," she smiled at me, and it held hope and promise, "you will be different. If ever you have need, Leliana, you know where you will find me. Rylie as well. Thank you…thank you for all that you have given me; given _us_."

She flung her arms around me in a warm embrace, imparting friendship, support, and gratitude.

"Kestrel," I whispered, "whatever may happen to you, whatever transpires, _this_ is the Maker's will. That you live your life in love, and not in fear. Hold to that, and let its truth carry you through this difficult path you have chosen. If you must confide your secret, there are two others whom you can trust. Kathyra and Rylie will not betray you."

We withdrew from the embrace, and the former thief's viridian eyes were glittering with tears. "Thank you, Leliana. I…I have to go. I cannot hold myself above my squad, and I'll be carrying gear for two."

"I wish you well, Kestrel Ariyah." I clasped her shoulder and squeezed it.

Her eyelids lowered, narrowed, and a strange look crossed her features. "We will meet again, Leliana." she told me, as though she had seen into the future. "I do not know how, but I am certain of that."

"Until that day." I nodded.

"Until then." she smiled and strode away with a dancer's graceful, unhurried movements.

I turned back towards Kathyra, feeling an incredible loss in my spirit. Neither of us could conceal the grief in our hearts.

"You chose well." the physician whispered, tears falling from her eyes.

"Kathyra, I…I am sorry." I looked into the deep green eyes, remembering their hue in another woman's face…a woman whom I had loved with a foolish heart and a naïve mind.

How grateful I was, that I could stand before Marjolaine's sister, a woman of great beauty and compassion, and know that I did not lack in her eyes. That she called me a friend.

"Do not apologize." she shook her head and attempted to smile. "You showed me a new world, Leliana. A world worth fighting for…worth speaking for. I will hold to that. I will hold to the beauty that remains and _live_ in the knowledge that pure hearts still walk beneath the sun. You give me hope, hope as I have not known since Giselle brought me out from darkness. I find myself healing, accepting, forgiving, and that…that is your doing."

"You kept me alive." I stepped closer. "You kept me sane, and protected me. Before you, there was only one who I could trust implicitly…I am far more blessed than any who walk in this world. And at this parting of ways," _will you cry for me, Leliana?…_ "know that you are loved, Kathyra."

"Leliana…"

"Go to the ship." I brushed tears of my own from my cheeks, despising myself for leaving her in a world that held no safety or security. A world where she was alone…as I had been alone, so many times. "You should not be here when Cassandra awakes. No one need bear her wrath but me."

Kathyra's brow creased with confusion. "Why would you do this?" she asked. "What has happened is as much my fault and my wishes as your own and I…I do not understand."

I smiled, feeling the name I had chosen burn against my beating heart. _Cousland…a legacy of honor, truth, and trust. This, Salem…this is what you have given me. The knowledge that I, who have been beaten, broken, and scarred, could turn my blood-stained hands to healing. It is why…it is why I must stay. The gift, as Kathyra herself named it. _

"I made you a promise." I whispered, feeling the sorrow pouring from her in waves. "And I intend to keep it, for as long as I live."

Kathyra reached out and took my hand in her own, running her thumb across my knuckles. "I never thought such beauty could exist." she breathed. "Thank you for proving me wrong, again and again."

Gentle, hesitant, she stepped closer than a friend, leaning in and pressing her lips against my cheek. The warmth of her breath scorched my skin like a fire, and when she pulled away, I recognized the look in her eyes. They held a stunned shock, a still, worshipful awe, an energy and fervency that had but one name.

_Oh, Kathyra…forgive me. How did I not realize…_

"Kathyra…"

She shook her head, acknowledging the truth of where we stood, in all of its heartbreaking reality.

"Be happy, Leliana." she said, her voice cracking with sorrow and other, deeper, inexpressible emotion. "Please be happy."

"I will." I made another promise.

Kathyra walked away, back to the life she had not wanted, away from me, to whom she wanted to give a gift I could neither accept nor return.

_Maker_, I prayed, watching the physician's shoulders bunch and uncurl with silent grief, _please, see fit to give her what you have granted me. Love. Trust. Lead her to someone who can take her precious, beautiful heart in their hands and protect it as fiercely as Salem protects me. Let another's eyes look past her scars, and listen to her songs. Do not let her hope be in vain…do not let her faith be broken. And keep her safe. _

_ Keep her safe. _


	29. Chapter 29

**Salem**

"It's healing quite nicely." Wynne lowered my shirt over the stitched wound in my side with a smile on her face. "And for that, I am grateful. Tomorrow morn will see my return to the Circle, and thus I would advise you against any more brushes with eternity."

_Partings_, I thought, with a smile on my face, _always partings in this life. But I can accept this now, so great are the gifts I have been given. _

"You will be greatly missed." I told her as she rose from her kneeling position beside my bed. "Thank you…thank you for my life, Wynne."

She shook her head. "You should know better than that by now, child. I had very little to do with it."

"Do not short-change yourself, old woman." I chided, a playful note in my tone that had been too long absent. "Between a mage blessed by a spirit and the prayers of a saint, I had no choice in the matter."

Wynne threw her hands in the air, releasing the argument. "It is good to see light in your eyes again, Salem. I know I am not alone in having missed it."

_I know, dearest Wynne._

"I have all that I need." I sighed and lay back as a dull ache crept into my side. "All that I need and more."

"Those who give all will find all that they need." Wynne spoke an old proverb, one that had often fallen from my mother's lips when, as a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, I had protested every court event, every moment spent elsewhere other than the lists or the hunt or my books.

"My mother often said that." I said, shocking both myself and the senior enchanter.

I had rarely, if ever, spoken of my family during the Blight save to anyone but Leliana. And never about the good times. Never about the memories. I had held them close to me, afraid to release them for fear that they would depart all together.

_All things must pass…and when…when I die, I want others to know of how I laughed, of the times I wept, and the nights I __**danced**__. I no longer desire a life where I fear loss so gravely that I cut myself off from all hope and joy and memory. I want to experience __**everything**__ that this world and this life have to offer._

"Lady Eleanor was well known of, even in the Circle." Wynne's eyes trailed into the distance. "Though how a woman of such vaunted bearing and grace could give birth to such a hoyden is quite beyond the realm of my comprehension, no matter my age."

I laughed, ending it on a heavy sigh and a wince. "She was wise, and kind, and beautiful." I remembered. "I suppose I all too often took it for granted, but her patience must have been legendary. I am afraid I am but a constant trial."

"No." Wynne shook her head, and her watery blue eyes fixed on me. "Eleanor Cousland would be _proud_ of you, Salem. Do you remember what I told you, before we marched on Denerim?"

The memory washed over me in a bittersweet wave. "You told me that I gave you hope." I whispered, remembering the senior enchanter's words on that terrible day; the day when the hope of all Thedas had rested on my shoulders.

"And it is hope that is becoming truth." Wynne sat beside me, took my scarred hand in her wrinkled, weathered one, and squeezed it. "The templars, the Chantry, and the mages have come to an accord. Progress will be slow, but there are already plans in place to let mages free from the Circle, the older and more experienced perhaps settling in a village as healers, or in schools as instructors. Small steps toward independence, but they are leaps and bounds compared to the stagnation we have endured. Alistair, the dear boy, has requested that a liaison to the Ferelden Circle be permitted to reside at court in Denerim. None of this would have been possible without you, Salem. Since the Chantry was founded ages ago on the teachings of Andraste, _no one_ has fought for us. I owe you everything…perhaps the children you saved that day in the tower will be able to have lives, to take lovers, wives, and husbands, have children without fear of them being snatched away in the night at the edge of a blade."

I took both of her hands in mine and turned to face her, my eyes filling with tears as I realized that she stood a greater chance of witnessing this future than I did.

"I wish you all the happiness and freedoms you deserve, Wynne. No one should ever be placed in chains, and if I had any part in breaking those of the Ferelden mages, then I am grateful beyond reckoning."

Her weathered hand reached up and brushed my cheek, a great grief in her eyes. "The woman who would sever the chains of all the world is bound to a master that none can escape. What will you do, Salem? With the time that is given you, what will you do?"

A figure walked by the door and my heart caught fire at the sight of red hair. "I'm going to live, Wynne." my features nearly split with the force of my smile. "I am going to finish the darkspawn in Amaranthine, and then I am determined to find my joy and spend every moment I can savoring this existence. I am a woman changed, a woman _blessed_, and a woman free."

Wynne smiled and brushed the tears from her cheeks. She smiled and leaned forward, placing a motherly kiss on my forehead. "If we do not meet again in this lifetime, Salem Cousland, I feel I should tell you this. Had I been blessed with a daughter, I would have wanted her to be like you, in every way. And though I grieve for your many losses, I thank you for bearing them with such gentility and grace, and for allowing them to shape the future of Thedas for the better."

_I have…Wynne, I have done so little. I took up a sword and defended my country. I went forward for the earth behind me had been scorched. It is nothing but what any other would do, if faced with that fate. _

"I gave what I could." I said. "I can only pray, in the end, that it was enough."

"More than, child." Wynne replied, looking as though she wished she could take the taint in my blood from me…a mother's wish for her child.

"Wynne," _this is a farewell, and no power in Thedas can change that, _"there are no words to express my gratitude for all that you have done. I…"

"There are no farewells, child." Wynne smiled. "No matter what fate befalls us, we both know that we live on borrowed time. Should that time run out, for either of us, we will meet at the gates of eternity and continue on."

"Indeed we shall." I agreed, grateful that, in her ever-present wisdom, Wynne had averted the sorrow of a true parting.

"Go to her, Salem." Wynne rose from the bed and straightened her robes in the same way as she always had. "Leliana will need you, very, very soon."

I stood, grateful to find the pain so lessened, and my strength returning. I slanted my eyes at the senior enchanter. "Where do you find room for all of your knowledge and secrets, old woman?"

She laughed, a quiet, wholesome sound that filled me with joy. "In a heart set at peace by a brave and beautiful young warrior." she answered. "Now off with you. It would seem there is one more foe to conquer before you and your bard begin your lives together."

"Cassandra." I nearly spat the name, fire flowing through me, though I knew I was still in no condition to take the High Seeker in another contest of blades.

"Take the flames out of your eyes, Salem." Wynne warned me. "This is Leliana's battle, but she will need you there to aid her in its winning. Consider it a reversal of roles."

"As you say."

"I will _miss_ those words, Salem." Wynne smiled as I walked with her to the door. "But I shall miss you even more. Be well, child. Prosper. Love. _Live_."

"I promise."

The senior enchanter, my second mother, my dearest friend, walked away from me then, down the long hallway that led to her new life. I turned towards mine, to the last battle I would ever need to fight for love. And I knew, as I heard the rise and fall of Leliana's mesmerizing accent…

…_that this battle is already won. _


	30. Chapter 30

**Leliana**

I paced forth and back before the hearth in the Chantry's makeshift infirmary. I could feel the storm brewing, growing closer, all lightning and ominous thunder. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed my arms as though chilled, even though I was anything but in the heat from the fire.

My fingers tapped at my wrists, where I bore no weapons. After so long anticipating an attack, a battle, a malevolent force in the night, I felt naked without my blades.

_But this will not come to blows_, I reasoned, trying to reassure myself. _I am better than that, and Cassandra too proud. Regardless of her feelings towards me, she is not permitted to attack another member of the order. _

"It is too beautiful an evening for such a severe expression, dear heart." a voice spoke low, resonating deeper than the thunder in my heart.

I turned towards Salem, smiling as I did, as the ache in my heart from leaving my friends softened. My wife's eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed with a tinge of color, a smile perched on her lips. In the soft light of the fire, she had never seemed more alive, vibrant, stronger.

_How soon will you be taken from me, my light, my shining star? _

"I am afraid that this severity is warranted, giving what is soon to transpire." I answered, finding myself more at ease as I walked closer to her. "How are you feeling? Should you be up?"

"I am quite well, I assure you." she said, as she always would. "Truly, Leliana. No pretension, no bravado, no posturing. I am fine."

"Then tell me how you did this." I gestured hopelessly to the empty room. "I am a bard, light on my feet, queen of impromptu lies and truths…I have never had to prepare for what I assume will be an all out war. How did you withstand this pressure, this rush of thoughts pounding and roaring through your mind?" I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. "I have such a headache."

"Come here." Salem sat on the hearthstone and I took a seat beside her at the invitation.

She turned and pulled me back against her chest, massaging my temples with her dexterous, strong, scarred fingers. I relaxed into her touch, basking in her nearness and her obvious care. _This is the woman who saved Thedas_, I thought, feeling all of my muscles relax as Salem continued. When at last my headache had been driven away, she wrapped her arms around me and laced her fingers across my waist, pulling me into a warm embrace.

"What makes you think of nothing?" she asked, and the inquiry startled me.

"I…I do not know. What do you mean, Salem?"

She tucked her chin against my collarbone and her breath tickled my ear as she spoke. "When I set my hands on my swords, everything fades away, except what _must_ be done. And in those situations where I was forced into decisions beyond my caliber and above my power, I would go into my mind, put my swords in my hand, and think of nothing but what must be done. I relied on instinct, and truth, and all the things I held dear to my heart. For in that nothingness, even if I found it in a weapon of war, I knew the core of myself, and, by the Maker's twisted grace, it was _right._"

A new appreciation for my wife rushed over me and I bit my lip, in awe of how she could make me _feel. _"That seems so…so iron-clad and distant." I spoke my thoughts aloud. "A sort of severance from existence that baffles me. How did…if that is how you survived during those trials…how did you find…our love?"

Salem laughed, low and breathy, a sound as rich as a cello's mourning. "Somehow," she whispered, "you were there. When I would close my eyes and fight the chaos, the clamor, the harshness, when I would lay hands on my blades, you were beside me. And in the steel and fire of my grip on what _must_ be done, I could hear your voice against my ears, telling me what _should_ be done. You are within me, instinctually. If that is not love, then I have no comprehension of the emotion."

_How is it,_ I wondered, brushing moisture from my cheeks, _that you can continuously bring me to tears? Marjolaine made me cry, tears of pain and bitter sorrow. Salem…Salem brings me tears of joy. _

"You embody the emotion." I tilted my face to hers and she kissed me without hesitation, without doubt.

It was not heated, not over-wrought with passion. It spoke of simplicity and comfort, a knowledge and an understood contract between the both of us. That we belonged to each other.

"You gave me the knowledge of what it truly meant." she assured me. "Trust yourself, Leliana. As I have trusted you countless times. You have never failed."

"How can you say such things…after everything I have put you through?"

"I could repeat that question with just as much honesty." she smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. "But it would seem that we are blind to each other's transgressions. With you here, in my arms, I cannot recall a single moment of hurt, a single second spent in tears. All that I recall are your smiles, the feel of your skin, the heat and passion of your words."

"I love you." I breathed, tracing the scar on her cheek with reverence.

"_**Cousland!**_" a Nevarran accent echoed across the stone floors and I did not flinch.

Instead, I rose, my wife's hand in mine, a peace and calm stealing over me that could only come from Salem.

"I am here." Salem assured me. "I am here, with you. Trust me, Leliana. Trust yourself."

I relinquished her hand and strode forward as Cassandra's silhouette entered the door. _Think of nothing, _I urged myself. _Find that place of instinct, and truth, and what __**must**__ be done. _

A sweet song began to play in my mind…a lullaby… my last remaining memory of my mother. It was the first song I had learned to sing from the tutor Cecile had hired for me. It was a tragic song of truth, with a simple, humble melody, so reminiscent of the land where I had been born. Salem's land. My new home.

* * *

**_It's simple, as the stories go, __transcending time and fate._**

**_ It's simpler that we never know, __for men are doomed to wait..._**

_I feel a hand inside my own, textured, scarred skin and a warmth hotter than flames. _

_ "I am waiting for you, dear heart." Salem speaks, hope, promise, eternal truth, everlasting love. "At this road's end, I am waiting for you."_

_ "But I…" I reply, suddenly afraid as my enemy approaches, "…what if…"_

_ "Trust." she says. "Trust this. You carry no blades, but it is not steel that will win this fight. It is your first weapon honed; your words, your speech. You have all that you need._

* * *

I flashed from the moment, standing face to face with Cassandra; Salem nowhere near me. But I had heard her voice, felt her hand…instinctual, within me.

Cassandra's amber eyes flashed, but I felt no fear. "What in _hell_ is going on!" she demanded, her voice harsh and braying in spite of the deep bruising that still mottled her jaw. "Give me an answer, Initiate!"

"_You_," I hissed, not cowered though she stood a head taller than I, "will refer to me by proper title, or not at all. Am I understood, High Seeker Pentaghast?"

Cassandra's eyes narrowed, filled with vitriol and hatred. I found myself smiling as the war began.


	31. Chapter 31

**Salem**

I stood back from the confrontation, filled with admiration for my wife, my Leliana. Cassandra Pentaghast looked down at her, eyes filled with scorn and the glow of pride born from belief that she could do no wrong. I crossed my arms and waited for the High Seeker to speak, silent as I had never before been, knowing, with absolute surety, that this was not my war.

"You _impudent_ whelp!" Cassandra cried, but Leliana did not flinch, did not falter. "You would _dare_ address me in such a manner, after everything that you have done!? You usurped my command, had me _jailed_, then stood and did nothing as your _abomination_ beat me inches from death!"

"I have every right." Leliana stated. "You are a guest in my home, and as such, I expect a certain amount of decorum, though if you cannot persuade yourself to be civil, I _will_ reciprocate in kind."

Cassandra sniffed and turned her chin at the haughty angle that birth, blood, and position dictated it be set. "Your home? You are nothing but an Initiate of the Seekers, under my command, and you _will_ follow orders."

Leliana's eyes blazed with a fury I had rarely witnessed in my bard. Righteous, pure, untainted. _She could have been a queen_, I thought, smiling with unapologetic pride. _Her bearing, her speech, her beauty and determination. Maker, how I __**love **__you._

"Those under your command are awaiting you at the ship. You are to set sail for Val Royeaux as soon as you arrive. I am not to be numbered among them."

Cassandra took a step back, her eyebrows raised; her cinnamon eyes aglow with wrath. "The _Divine_ has ordered that you remain at my side! No matter either of our emotions as to this matter, _no word_ can overrule Justinia's. Now cease this posturing and assume your _proper_ place! You have much to answer for, and I will see you on your knees before the Divine in the Hall of Justice!"

"I have _nothing_ to answer for." Leliana asserted, stepping forward and claiming dominance of the situation. "I took the reins from your hands because of your grievous ineptitude and misplaced priorities. Two women nearly _died_ paying the _price of your __**arrogance**_! And I swear by the Maker, that if you claim the ideal of _sacrifice_ before my face again I will tear your soul in half!"

I could see the struggle crossing the Nevarran woman's features. Too long had she gone unchallenged. Too long had she been the pinnacle of her world, her every word clung to, her every action law. Never had another possessed the audacity to decry her. When words had failed her, she turned to strength…a fool's choice, no matter the situation.

_Rivers of blood drip from my hands, but I take no pleasure in that knowledge. To this day, I remember __**every**__ face, every torn body, of mercenaries, thieves, assassins…the villagers of Haven, the child that I murdered. Sacrifice is noble, and worthy, but not if others pay the price. It is a lesson Cassandra has yet to learn, or the burden of the blood on her hands will become too great. It will bury her. _

"You _directly_ subverted my authority, and struck me!" Cassandra turned to her last defense, all too aware that Leliana would not countenance yet another explanation of the "greater good."

"It was _necessary_." Leliana claimed. "Or has your time spent recovering not allowed you proper reflection!? You would have given the mages their victory, or are you too _thick_ to understand that! In saving the lives of Kathyra and Rylie, we were _victorious,_ Cassandra! If even _one soul_ that can be saved is lost in conflict then it is a loss, a failure, a dereliction of _duty!_"

"You have no concept of the true world, you imbecilic tart!" Cassandra's voice dripped with disdain. "You, so enraptured and twisted in your tales of heroes and legends, you have no knowledge of the _truth of the world! People __**must**__ die!_"

"And based upon that logic, you would leave the wounded to their fate!?" Leliana's voice echoed across the stone floors like an angel's wrath. "I am not the girl enamored of tales, Cassandra. I have lived a more difficult life than you and your elevated position could _conceive_! I _know_ you lost those you loved; I _know_ that you fought a grievous conspiracy and nearly lost all that was dear to you! _Do you think you are the __**only one!?**_"

"_None_," Cassandra argued, buried deep in her pride and the pain that Leliana had wrung from her memories, "have carried the burdens placed upon my shoulders! _None_ can _**comprehend**_ the darkness I have witnessed!"

"You would make that claim in the presence of those who stand before you now?" Leliana asked, crossing her arms and raising her brow. "All others might believe your version of the truth, Cassandra, but not I. There was not a _scratch_ upon your skin after the battle, and you dare to think you _**comprehend**_ the nature and notion of sacrifice! Look at her, Cassandra," Leliana flung her hand in my direction and I sighed, hating that it had come to this. "_Fucking __**look**_ at her and know your words are _lies_! Salem _lost_ everything! She had burdens more than comparable to those you cite, and she _sacrificed __**everything!**_ Everything except those that drew their swords alongside hers."

"Only with the aid of _demons_ did she accomplish the great deeds that have clouded your eyes!" Cassandra thundered, shoving past Leliana and approaching me, a bristling tower of wrath and disgust. "Tell me, oh vaunted hero of legend, _what_ comprises a leader."

Leliana turned, fear in her gaze. Cassandra had no knowledge of my wounds, but if this escalated into a physical confrontation, I would be unable to defend myself.

"If a comrade is bruised, their leader should be bleeding." I answered, finding the impossible calm that I had discovered during the Blight. "If they are bleeding, the leader should be near death. And if, by any chance, your compatriots are near death, you should lie dead beside them."

"_That_ ludicrous statement is an utterly unsustainable ideal." Cassandra hissed. "To whom would fall the leadership? Who would envision, guide, and direct!?"

"How could a leader finish their work if they let those who follow die?" I asked, bewildered by the cruelty of the woman's logic. "Without their power at your back, you are nothing but an idea, an idea never realized because you have thrown away the very strength with which to achieve it."

Confusion filled the High Seeker's eyes, quickly thrust away by anger and rage…the response of youth, ignorance, and arrogance.

"I do not believe that." she hissed.

"Then you are a fool." I replied.

The High Seeker's fist rammed into my gut, against my still healing wound. Pain shot through my body, sending me to my knees as a hoarse gasp ripped from my throat. The sound of a blade slithering from its sheath chilled my spine and I stared up as Cassandra's sword came down for my skull.

"**Stop**!" Leliana ordered, but it was not her voice.

It was the sound of a siren's call, a chorus of galaxies clashing, the might of a dying star. I opened my eyes to see Cassandra's blade held aloft, stayed by the hand of the silver-eyed, indigo-haired woman who had carried me from my nightmare. The High Seeker strained against the divine hand, not seeing the god she claimed to serve, and I looked to my wife, seeing awe in her features and a light in her eyes that had never been there before.

_Is this…_I staggered to my feet…_the true power…of the Maker's prophet?_


	32. Chapter 32

**Leliana**

Absolute rage infused me as I saw Cassandra's sword poised in mid-air, aiming for Salem's collapsed body. Too far away, I could not move, could not step forward. My lips felt fused together, unable to do anything but watch as the High Seeker prepared to end Salem's life…and for no crime committed but the truth. The truth that she had made manifest in the way she lived; in the manner in which she had preserved those who fought alongside her.

_Maker, give me strength!_ I begged, feeling air sucked from my lungs and a fire begin to flow through my veins as my heart _shrieked_ with an overwhelming force of love and protection.

"**Stop!**" I shouted, but a new voice spilled from between my lips, one that deafened and demanded, a tone that reminded me of cracking earth and raging waterfalls.

Cassandra's sword ceased its downward motion and I stood there, stunned, as Salem looked up, as both my wife and I witnessed the Maker herself holding Cassandra's blade at bay. One glance into Salem's scarred eyes told me everything that I needed to know…the High Seeker remained blind.

"What magic is this!?" Cassandra sputtered, sweat beading on her forehead as she fought for control of her weapon. Her eyes flared, vitriolic and filled with venom, but it was Salem who bore the force of them. "I _**knew**_ you dealt with demons!" she raged. "And you have tainted one of our own in your heresy!"

Words, not my own, battered against me, demanding that they be spoken. The Maker wore a soft smile and nodded at me in further affirmation. I breathed deeply, allowing the foreign voice to come forth once more.

"**Are you so lost, child**," I spoke, frightened as I felt the stones beneath me shake, "**so lost that you would mistake the hand of god for the will of a demon? Have you fallen so far in your bitterness that you would destroy those whom I have made great, that you would place **_**your **_**frail human perception above **_**my**_** will!?**"

"I bid you be _silent!_" Cassandra roared, but I saw the glimmer of fear in her eyes. "What trickery is this, Leliana Cousland!? What bardic art do you attempt to ensnare me with!? My eyes have been blessed by the Maker himself, and I…"

"**Are. But. Mortal.**" my throat began to burn with the power coursing through me, an indomitable fire, an unquenchable volcanic stream. "**_I_ stood at the foundations of nothing, and crafted from thence the cities of Black and Gold. _I_ cast the demons into the Fade and wove the Veil with my own hands. _I_ saw fit that you lived, that you prospered, that **_**you**_**, Cassandra Pentaghast survived the horrors wrought on your lands and family. And in my sight, you have fallen. In my sight, you are failing the vows you swore beneath my name.**"

"_Heresy!_" Cassandra shrilled, and the Maker removed her hand. The High Seeker stumbled, quickly righted herself, and strode towards me, blade outstretched. "This _charade_ ends now! I will drag the both of you before the Divine and justice _will be __**rendered!**_"

The tip of her blade touched my throat and, following a knowlege not my own, I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. The sword flew from Cassandra's arm, the force of it pulling her to her knees as the blade embedded itself in the stone wall, above the blazing hearth fire.

"**I. Am. Justice.**" I tasted blood in my mouth. "**Have you grown so accustomed to your voice alone bearing power that you are still blinded, Cassandra Pentaghast? Are you so mired in lies that you cannot see the truth screaming before you?**"

Cassandra rose to her feet, a frenzied, frenetic fear in her movements. "This," she looked from me to Salem, "this ends _now!_" her hands clenched into fists and a white fire began to burn between them.

Salem's eyes sparked with alarm; both of us had seen Alistair use this technique, a templar's Holy Smite, the flame of the Maker that extinguished all magic. I had seen it turn a blood mage to a puddle of ash and charred bone. I shook my head as my wife stepped forward, a quick, quiet warning to put faith in the hands that had protected us from Cassandra's naked sword.

"The righteous stand before the darkness," Cassandra spread her hands and the white fire dripped from them, spreading into a protective circle, "_and the Maker shall guide their hand!_"

The room exploded into a wash of pure, blinding fury. I felt a hand in mine as the white flame rolled over me, leaving the scent of scorched lyrium in its wake. I turned to see the Maker at my side, her silver eyes gleaming with hope, beauty, and the relief of revelation.

The flames died and Cassandra's lips parted as Salem and I stood as we had been, un-singed, unhurt, unmoved.

"**In your heart lies the darkness you claim to stand against.**" I spoke, noticing that the Maker's lips moved with my own, a final proof that I was indeed called to be her prophet. "**Bitterness. Pride. A heart so intent on justice that mercy is forgotten; a heart closed away from love! Your vaunted righteousness lies in my sight, a bloating, rotted carcass of original intent! You have twisted my words and **_**murdered**_** my **_**children! Look upon me now, and TREMBLE!**_"

Cassandra dropped to her knees as the Maker stepped from my side and transformed. A wind sprung from nowhere and whipped around her starlight gown. The waterfall of indigo hair turned into a halo of deep purple flame, and the silver of the moon in her eyes burned with the intensity of ten thousand suns. Tears fell from the High Seeker's eyes as she witnessed a god, the god she thought silent, vanished, dead.

"I…I have failed." the High Seeker's voice cracked as her skin began to redden from the light radiating from the Maker's form. "Forgive me, my Maker! Please, I beg you, have mercy on the child who has thought of _nothing_ but to serve you!"

"**Then _serve._**" I stepped forward, feeling the Maker's will within my very soul, as though at that moment I could hear every heart beating and every voice raised in prayer. "**Serve me in humility. Serve me in love. Serve me in seeking out **_**truth**_**, not of mortal men but of divine will. Remember this moment,**" I extended my hand and pulled Cassandra to her feet, "**as I grant you mercy that you **_**did not show**_** to those **_**no less my children**_**. Now, Cassandra, rise a true Seeker, go in **_**my**_** grace, and think no more of sating your pride and indulging your anger. I have written your fate in the stars, and at the end of time, **_**I**_** will measure and mete the deeds you have done in my name. Begone, and **_**know**_** that I walk again among my people. They will cry 'the **_**heretic**_** has come, proclaiming a new God,' but **_**you**_** will stand alongside the one who carries my voice**."

"As you decree, my Maker." Cassandra's face had paled to the color of ash, her lips quivered and her hand trembled in my own. She looked at me and her cinnamon eyes filled with a wretched sense of awe as the Maker's form vanished from her sight. "Who _are_ you?" she asked.

"**Time immemorial.**" I spoke, seeing the Maker's lips move, for even though Cassandra could not see her, her presence had not left. "**A will re-enacted. A repentant deity. I am Hope. I am Light. I am Love. Go, Cassandra. Seek your ship and do not dirty these shores again until the one I have named my own stands once more in your presence.**"

Cassandra turned and all but fled the room, ignoring her sword that remained impaled in the stone, a standing reminder of the power of a god and the need of mortal men. The intense energy that had filled me, scorching my heart and burning my lips, departed, leaving me coughing, gasping, but once more myself. Salem rushed to me, gathering me in her arms as I swayed. The scars in her eyes were all but gone as she gazed down at me, filled with love and awe and admiration.

Small, delicate fingers wrapped around my hand and placed it into Salem's scarred one. The Maker rested her hands over our intertwined ones, her smile holding an immense love that could not be spoken of in any mortal tongue.

"What I have ordained," she spoke, a gentle flowing river, "no man shall sunder." the silver gaze turned to Salem. "For a time, warden. Cherish."

With that last mandate, the Maker vanished, leaving behind the fragrance of fresh-fallen snow and spring roses.

I gazed into my wife's face, overwhelmed with emotion, exhausted, and _happy_. My throat ached, my lips burned, but it did not matter. Once again, Salem had rendered me speechless, such was the light radiating from her silver-blue eyes.

"Leliana Cousland." she took both of my hands in hers and knelt down. "Be my wife. Live with me. Love with me. Let me _cherish_ you, for whatever time awaits."

_A simple life. A simple love. My gift…before I embark on the greatest and most dangerous journey that any man or woman has ever taken. Thank you, my Maker. _

I searched for words, finding only three. Tears spilled from my eyes as I spoke them. "As. You. Say."


	33. Chapter 33

**Salem**

_For a time warden_. The Maker's words echoed through my mind as I looked across the sea of grass, smiling at the red-gold lustre of my wife's hair. _Cherish. _

I knew the words for their deeper meaning, an apology and a gift intertwined. The taint still coursed through my blood, and no miracle would remove it. My life would be cut short; but the time I had left glowed with such potential that it no longer mattered.

_Never to be torn from her again. _Peace filled my soul. After so long in torment, it seemed a foreign emotion. _But one task left to accomplish, and I will set about rebuilding. Once the darkspawn are dealt with, I will turn my hands to growth, to creation. I __**will**__ become a woman of peace. In my final days, this I swear. _

"Are you well, my love?" Leliana's horse sidled along mine and her hand wrapped around my arm. "Your eyes are far away and pained…Cassandra split your stitches, should we…"

"I'm fine." I smiled at her concern and laced her fingers through my own. "Simply thinking of what must be done. I have been too long away from the Keep, and I am quite certain things have fallen into disrepair."

My wife's lips trembled, as though we had truly reversed positions, as though she blamed herself for the burdens on my shoulders. I laughed aloud and a look of indignation crossed Leliana's features, so brief I barely recognized the emotion before it melted into affection.

"I had forgotten the symphony of that sound." she squeezed my hand and sparks flitted along my skin. "There was a time, Salem, when I would have given my soul to hear you laugh."

I sobered, thinking of the dark times we had been through, the dark times yet to come. _She belongs to the Maker. There are further trials in store for her and I will not be there…not even in another land. An expanse so vast will separate us; I know for I have seen into its depths and trembled at its magnitude. But that will not dissuade me. You __**will**__ be loved, Leliana. _

"I had forgotten how." I spoke, looking into the ocean depths of her eyes and drowning there, blissful. "But I learned again. From you."

We fell silent for a time, both of us fading back into memories of joy and of sorrow, of glee and of grief.

"Are you afraid, Salem?" Leliana asked, delving deep into my scarred eyes. "Do you…do you fear what you have seen in me? What I have become?"

"No." I assured her. "I know everything that you are. You are the Maker's prophet, gifted with visions and a message of love that Thedas _must_ hear. But you are also the woman who stole into my tent when lightning struck too fiercely and thunder shook the earth. You are the woman whose eyes glittered with mirth that drunken night outside Redcliffe when you forced me to dance. You are the woman who spoke to me for a _full candlemark_ of your torrid love affair with _shoes_."

"I blame you for that!" she exclaimed, doubling over in her saddle with laughter. "You just _stared_ across the fire with this inscrutable gaze and the silence grew so thick I nearly suffocated! But you, you _impossible wretch_, left me so ridiculously tongue-tied that after we had exhausted our contemplations on the weather, I could do _nothing_ but speak of what first came to mind!"

I raised a single eyebrow upward. "And in the middle of the Blight, after we had nearly been skewered that same evening, your nearest thought was that of…shoes?"

"I was desperate for _something_ to say!" Leliana argued, her smile widening. "Morrigan had cornered the market on witty barbs, Alistair had all but killed you with endless conversations of weapons, armor, and strategy, Wynne knew more of history than ever I could fathom, and Zevran had inured you to flirtatious advances…I," her tone softened and she looked at me with smouldering eyes, "I wanted to set myself apart in your eyes…to draw your gaze, to be so devastatingly _interesting_ that you would seek me out first when camp was made."

"Little did you know, dear heart," I stared at the sky, recalling the glorious full moon that had illuminated that night, the scent of blood and smoke in the air, the rich crackling of the logs as flames consumed them, "that I would have listened to you speak of all manner of inanities, if only for the pleasure of hearing your voice."

"In truth?" she ducked her head and a slight, innocent flush colored her cheeks. "You…you never told me."

I fumbled for the right words to say, to tell this beautiful, ravishing woman all that she meant to me, then and now. "When…when you spoke of your past, that first revelation of the many to come," Leliana's face darkened with a hint of shame, but it faded as I reached across and touched her shoulder, "I did not want to whisper to you the words that so many must have said. I could see that you had known admiration, that more than one lustful advance had been made, and that brave chevaliers had vied for your favor before they entered the tournament lists."

Leliana nodded, her eyes fading into memories of darker times…but I knew they held a light of their own. She was a lover of beauty, tangible and spiritual. I knew why she had asked if I feared her, if her change, from a woman who operated in shadows to a leader who stood proud and fearless before the mighty, had altered my love for her. It could not. Nothing conceived within heaven, forged in hell, or made of earth could change my heart.

_You are the one my heart sought from the beginning_, I smiled as I watched the sun caress her face. _The one that haunted my dreams. No matter the heady swirl of first love, the calm contentment of second love, the physical rush and satiation of inconsequential love…you encompass everything. You are my last love, Leliana. The one that I wished had known existed, that I might have given you something that __**never**__ belonged to another. You are the memory I will cling to as I cross into eternity. The final breath in my body will hold your name, and nothing else. _

"I wanted," I continued, knowing that these were the first of many, _many _new words of love to pass between us, "to be something you had not known before. Someone who would seek out _your_ desires and _listen_ to your stories…not the legends and poems that you perfected to an art, but the tales of your life, your wishes, wants…and I had no idea the manner in which to achieve that."

She shook her head. "You made it seem so effortless. Do you remember the Brecilian Forest, after our first skirmish with the werewolves, when I dragged you back to Wynne and demanded that she heal you?"

I nodded, remembering the shame that had coated me as the mage used her magic, as the first scream broke from my lips…the confusion in Wynne's gaze, the terror in Leliana's. I had felt such a failure, defeated in spirit…

"I thought you were angry with me." Leliana bit the edge of her lower lip, seeming so vulnerable, worlds away from the woman who had channeled the voice of god. "We set immediately back to the chase, and your face was so white and your eyes so fierce that I did not even dare to speak. Then we broke for a rest, and you disappeared off into the forest. When you returned and called me away from the others, I thought for certain that you…well…"

"I know." I answered, low, knowing that she had feared from me the same cruelty she knew at Marjolaine's hand.

"Then you pressed a bouquet of flowers in my hand, looked at me with the most intense eyes, and said but three words. 'Thank you, Leliana.'" she quoted, her eyes lost in the memory and sheened with tears. "You did not even remain," she tucked her hair behind her ear, "long enough for me to realize that the flowers you had given me were Andraste's Grace. I just stood there, surrounded by memories and the beauty of the wild…and I thought…"

She trailed off and wiped the moisture from her eyes, this experience so new to both of us. We had spoken at length of love and of passion but we had never…never had _time_ to remember, to recall the small moments between the heat of battle and the fear of loss. It was beautiful, almost holy, to speak with her of old things…because the new things were before us, to be experienced in their time…a thing that, at last, we were free to share.

"What did you think, dear heart?" I asked.

She turned to me and her eyes were _singing_. "That I had never before realized…the simplicity of love. My life in Orlais…love had been made so convoluted, always a secondary agenda or a dagger in the dark waiting, always the fear of poison in the kiss. So I stood there, with those flowers in my hand, realizing that you had heard _me_, that you sought to speak to _my_ heart; it was the first gift I had been given that had nothing at its other end…and in that moment, I fell in love with you."

"We were such fools." I extended my hand and she took it, firm and warm and forever. "Young and in love; both of us so fearful and damaged."

"Broken pieces were meant to fit together." Leliana lifted her eyes as the imposing walls of Vigil's Keep came into view. "How else would we understand the meaning of what it is to be truly…_truly __**whole**_."

Her eyes sparked as she surveyed the home that I had been given, the land that I was sworn to. At long last, through hellfire and suffering, I had accomplished the goal I had held from the first.

"Leliana." I reined in my horse and she turned her face to mine.

"Yes?"

_I promise to give you everything that is mine. I promise to live, to fight, to hold your heart in my hands and grant you the one thing you have never been given. For a time…for the rest of my life. _

"Welcome home, dear heart."


	34. Chapter 34

**Leliana**

We were bombarded the moment we passed beneath the portcullis. A stern man in armor stopped Salem's horse, an urgent look in his eyes that caused my wife to dismount with alacrity and a grace that belied her still-healing injuries.

"What is it, captain?" she asked.

"News, milady." the captain of the guard rendered a sharp salute and continued. "Our scouts have returned with the location of the Legion of the Dead. You said you would seek them yourself in aiding against the darkspawn threat."

"I will set off tomorrow." Salem replied, and at one time my heart would have ached, knowing that her duty would always tear her away from me.

_But it is different now. Something has changed between us. I do not know if it is her knowledge of a shortened life, or if she was moved by the presence of the Maker, or if she has simply realized what I came to learn during our separation. There is too much pain in the world; we must always seek the small joys and beauties, lest we risk insanity in the wake of a world bent on enslaving itself to suffering. _

"Excellent, milady. Also, Warden Howe took it upon himself to seek out the missing warden from Orlais. Kristoff, I believe his name was. Last word had of him said he was setting out for the Blackmarsh. He wanted to muster the wardens to go in search, but the seneschal ordered him to await your arrival."

A quizzical expression crossed Salem's features. "Nathaniel took it upon himself to conduct a warden's investigation?" she asked.

"Aye, ma'am." the captain nodded and I dismounted, coming to stand beside Salem, knowing that Nathaniel Howe's life had been a constant thorn in her side. "I went with him to Amaranthine. During the course of our inquiry, we chanced upon his sister, a good woman, by all accounts…they had words, milady, and I remained away from the conversation, but since that time, Warden Howe is a man changed. I'd lay my sword alongside his any moment."

"Bless the Maker's twisted grace." Salem muttered, shaking her head. She smiled at me. "It would appear I am not the only warden in Ferelden determined to change my ways. Leliana, this is Garevel, captain of the guard. Captain, might I introduce you to Leliana Cousland, Seeker of the Chantry and my wife."

The captain crossed his arms before his chest and bowed from the waist. "Well met, milady." he said. "Forgive me for accosting the arlessa with matters of state before she had proper time to settle in."

"It is no matter." I smiled. "We are quite accustomed to such things."

Garevel's eyes widened as we began to walk up the steps to the Keep. I smiled as I touched the walls of harsh Ferelden stone; saw the barrenness of the halls as I entered. "Your home could use a woman's touch, my love." I whispered in Salem's ear, and she turned a highly inappropriate laugh into a cough, startling Garevel, who looked back to make certain all was well.

"There is also the matter of Bann Esmerelle, milady." Garevel pursed his lips, uncertain of broaching what he assumed would be a delicate subject. "She has been a right royal terror, and attempted to bribe several of the guards."

I shook my head, remembering Esmerelle's offer of wealth beyond my comprehension, if I simply looked the other way from her crime.

"Did any of them accept?" Salem asked, a polite interest that bordered on approaching anger.

"No, milady." Garevel smiled with pride in his men and their integrity. "Though any who reported the offer were removed from guard duty so as to avert temptation."

"Well managed, captain." Salem replied, and the man veritably beamed. "Bring her to the Main Hall. If I am to provide justice, I will not make those deserving of it wait. I have been away too long already."

"With good reason." Garevel nodded in my direction. "I am certain no one will fault you for allowing yourself time to mend and reacquaint yourself with…_Arl_ Cousland?"

Salem did laugh then, and I could not refrain from joining in, Garevel's question so close to the jest I had whispered against Salem's ear when I had given her the happiest of news. When I had chosen in accordance with the wishes of the Maker. When I had reaffirmed my marriage vow, my belief in love, and subverted destiny.

_For a time. _

Garevel departed and Salem took my hand in hers, leading me to the main hall of the Keep. A fire burned in the center hearth, and Salem stopped, her breath shuddering, her skin paling as blood drained from her face.

"Salem?" I asked, concerned, "Salem, what is it?"

"I…I nearly died." she lifted a trembling hand and pointed towards the hearth. "There. It has…it has never before struck me so profoundly, but…standing here, your hand in mine, I realize all that I might have lost."

I pulled her tight against me and pressed my lips against her neck. "You lost nothing." I reassured her, running my hand up and down her back. "I am here, and I will be with you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and the bloodshed will end, and the pain will ease, and all will be as it was meant."

"I can…I can at last allow myself to believe that." she breathed and straightened her shoulders, moving away from me as the doors opened and Garevel and the seneschal escorted a chained Esmerelle before Salem.

The woman's eyes turned to ice as she saw me, the enmity in them turning to worry as Salem strode forward, lifting her hand. Garevel stopped and jerked Esmerelle back as she pulled against her captors.

"Unhand me, you imbecile!" she ordered. "I have a matter of grievance to address with this…this _creature_ who would presume to rule my lands! Listen to me _well, _Cousland, a woman of my stature has _rights!_ There are _codes_ to be adhered to! I will report to the King and…"

"Esmerelle," Salem's voice remained low, controlled, but I could see the slight tremor of her hands, the brief flash of pain that crossed her face from the wound that troubled her still. "You would complain of your treatment to the very king who signed your death warrant? I had been told you were a brilliant woman…I see now that a grave error was made in that assessment."

"You brutish whore!" the woman screamed, unbowed by her predicament, unrepentant of her crimes. "I have been treated like…"

"Have you been fed?" Salem's words snapped across the stone with the force of a whip. Even I recoiled from the heat and repressed anger in them. "Have you been given water? Clothing? The opportunity to bathe?"

Esmerelle's nostrils flared and her shoulders bunched as she hissed an affirmative.

"Then you have been given far more amenities in my prisons than many of your own people enjoy in their freedom." my wife spoke, command and control and power in her bearing. "I have every right to slaughter you, Esmerelle. To have you tortured, maimed, and broken. But you made a grave mistake in leaving me to the mercy of the wounds you inflicted. You have given me time to reflect, to ponder, and to make my final decision on what exactly your fate will be."

The darkness in Salem's tone seemed to dim the lights in the room, and I found old fears awakening in my heart. The same fears I had found tormenting me in Rendon Howe's dungeon. Fear that Salem would be lost to me…a crueler hand than death.

"I await your _judgment_." Esmerelle sneered. "No manner of death can frighten me, whelp. I am firm in my resolve."

"I am glad of it." Salem smiled, a cunning light in her eyes that I had seen only on the rarest of occasions. "Let all who hear bear witness. I, Salem Cousland, Arlessa of Amaranthine and voice of King Alistair Theirin, do hereby pass judgment."

_Keep true to yourself, my love_, I begged, chasing away my fears with trust. Trust in Salem.

"Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine," Salem continued, solemn, "for your crimes against the crown and the land of Ferelden, I hereby strip you and all living descendants and relatives of your title. Your wealth and estates will be repossessed by the crown and distributed to the citizens you have wronged during your tenure. As for your personal fate, you will spend the rest of your days until your death learning the true measure of nobility. Captain Garevel will assign a guard to you, and you will work as a servant, aiding in the rebuilding of the Keep, using your own hands to repair the damage done by the selfish acts of Rendon Howe and those such as yourself."

"I would rather _die_." Esmerelle pulled at her chains with her soft, pampered hands, soon to be covered in calluses and blisters, splinters and scrapes.

"I know." Salem smiled, full of sorrow. "Do you think I am unaware that I still dance in a nest of vipers? To kill you would be to give them a martyr, a spark to their flame. Make no mistake, Esmerelle, this _will_ kill you. But I hope, at the end, you will realize the truth of the monster you were, and give yourself willingly to the work I have ordered for you, to make amends for your crimes. Now go." Salem ordered Garevel. "And do not disturb me again this day."

The captain and the seneschal took the blustering, frustrated, chained woman, who had expected a fate she did not receive and was all the more bitter for it. Salem turned to me, her composure fading as the mask she wore crumbled.

"That…" admiration rushed through me, "…how?"

"Necessity." Salem walked to me and grasped my hand, leading me from the main hall, up a flight of stairs, into a modest room.

She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed as her hand moved protectively over her stitches. I knelt before her and gently pried her hand away, lifting her shirt and inspecting the wound, the angry, puckering scar tissue held together by thin strands of silk. I understood the fractures in her spirit, knew them as intimately as I knew my own.

_To stand in a place where death once dogged you…not many can understand, nor can it be spoken of with ease, but I know, my love. How well I know. _

"I love you, Salem." I breathed, pressing my lips to the healing wound, feeling the pang of desire as her breath caught. "You are not alone. Not this night, nor any other."

"Sh…show me." she whispered, a favor I had once asked of her, a delicate proof of unspeakable emotion. "Leliana, please. I…I need you."

_And what choice do I have_, I lifted my fingers to the lacings of her shirt, _but to honor the vulnerability in a spirit so unbreakable? None…and no other choice do I wish to have before me. _


	35. Chapter 35

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

**Salem**

My arms ached as I forced open the gates of Vigil's Keep. My ears rang with the cries of the wounded and I leaned against the wall as the weak, over-exerted muscles in my right leg threatened to give out. Rain poured down, flattening my hair and sending blood and sweat cascading into my eyes.

_It's over_, I thought to myself, struggling to keep moving forward, one foot before the other, mindless of the bruises and cuts that covered my body. _No more battle. No more war. The darkspawn are being led away. At long last, it is at an end. _

"Leliana!" I cried, feeling the cold hand of fear ice over my heart.

After months of gathering resources, fortifying the Keep, recruiting a Fade spirit and the last Legionnaire remaining in Amaranthine as Wardens, the final attack had come. The darkspawn had assailed from both fronts, attacking the city of Amaranthine and the Keep simultaneously.

Leliana had looked into my eyes, and the both of us knew the stakes. Lives were at risk, innocent, soldier, and wardens. I had gone to the city, fighting through it in a macabre re-enactment of Fort Drakon, only…the enemy at the end. I would have rather faced the demon god in all of his glory once again rather than know that such a monster was capable of existence.

My stomach lurched with the memory of the stench and I tasted the sting of acid in my throat as I fought yet another visceral reaction. _Eyes as black as death and a voice straight from the nightmares of the Black City_, my shoulders shuddered with revulsion. _Had it not been for the aid of the Architect, we would surely have fallen. _

My path had crossed with the mysterious creature, the self-claimed Architect of the Darkspawn, multiple times. The abomination I had destroyed had been of his making, as he had attempted to craft for himself a companion to while away the lonely, despairing days of being the singular one of his kind. But it…_the Mother_…had become bitter, angry at their shared fate, and had built an army of her own, intent on wiping humans, elves, and dwarves from the face of Thedas.

I held little love or appreciation for the Architect, but I understood his desires. He had saved another Legionnaire, Una, and Seranni from a cruel, despondent death at the hands of the taint. I could honor him for that, though my heart ached for Velanna. She had taken her sister's rejection hard, though I could see the resolve in her eyes, to use her warden gifts to keep another's loved ones, siblings, husbands, wives, and children from the horrible fate wreaked by the darkspawn.

"Leliana!" I cried again, attempting to see through the thick sheets of rain and the fog rapidly gathering.

_I have to know. I have to know if she made it through the onslaught alive. Inasmuch as it __**killed**__ me to leave her behind, I could not…I could not leave the Keep without a capable commander at its helm. _

I stumbled to the door of the Keep, brushing my water-logged hair out of my eyes, feeling as though my armor wished to drag me to the ground and bury me within it. The attack had come with the sun's rising, and the moon was nearing its final descent. I did not know how I had remained on my feet for an entire day, every movement had become mechanical; every blow seemed but a triviality. Streams of blood melted down my armor in the force of the rain, but I did not know how much of it was my own. Nor did I care. I had but one thought driving me forward, keeping my eyes open, grounding me in the waking world.

"Leliana!" I shouted, praying to hear her voice in the ever-increasing clamor inside my mind.

I entered the main hall, seeing a flurry of activity as guards and citizens rushed about, tending to the wounded. My eyes darted around the room, searching for the tell-tale flash of red hair, the lyric voice that could still manage to ring with imperturbable calm.

_Where in __**hell**__ are you?_

No one saw me as I passed by, another bloodied, battered, drenched warrior. I was grateful for the ignominy, it made seeking my objective all the easier. The wardens who had fought with me from dawn until dawn, Velanna, Oghren, Nathaniel, Sigrun…all had gone their separate ways. The dwarves to finish off the darkspawn, each one counting the number of enemies felled in fierce competition. Nathaniel had remained in Amaranthine, seeking out his sister and her family, a task I would not order him away from. Velanna had left my side once we returned, intent on using her Keeper's training to aid those who had fallen.

I staggered up the stairs, begging my body to hold out, to keep moving. My eyelids fluttered and I sagged against the wall as the muscles in my back spasmed repeatedly, protesting the weight of my armor and the strain of what they had endured.

I opened the door of my room and stepped inside, dripping red-tinted water onto the floor in macabre puddles. Varel knelt before my wife, tying off a bandage around her forearm. Leliana looked up, the fear in her blue eyes melting to a caring anxiety.

She rose so quickly that Varel fell back onto the ground, shaking his head and muttering something about 'incorrigible women'. I could not bring myself to care as my wife crossed the stone floor, as her hand brushed my cheek. I could see the horrible exhaustion in her eyes, as insistent and demanding as my own, though the red-stained bandage was the only wound visible.

"La pitié de l'ange béni! Vous secouez! Êtes vous tout droit!?" the words tumbled out in a thick Orlesian accent, but I could not understand them. "Salem?" she asked, searching my eyes, begging for a response to her obvious concern. "Salem?"

"What…" my voice, harshened by smoke and screaming in battle, came out as nothing but a whisper, "…in hell…did you just say?"

My leg shook fiercely once again. Now that my soul had been set aright, my body began voicing its demands, and I had no control as my legs buckled beneath me, as the weight of my armor dragged me to the ground, as my eyes closed in a relieved unconsciousness.


	36. Chapter 36

**Leliana**

The sun had begun to set on the day after the final battle, and Salem still lay sleeping, face down on the bed, her skin pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. I smiled and inhaled the pleasant scent of the warm herbal tea Varel had delivered not long ago. I drank, savoring the taste of honey and the immense sense of relief that had greeted me when I had awakened from our shared exhausted slumber not a candlemark ago.

_The threat has ended_, I smiled, thinking of the long days and nights Salem had been away, the fortnight that had passed as she battled in the Blackmarsh, fighting a long dead baroness whose grip was still felt through the Veil. She had returned, shaky, disoriented, a walking corpse at her side, uncomprehending of my worry…for to her, not a single day had passed.

_You have fought so hard, my love_, a smile played across my lips as I watched her sleeping, an all too rare sight. _And, at last, respite is at hand. You can turn your thoughts solely to the governance of this province, tear your hands away from their swords, and know the true definition of peace. _

A soft knock rang at the door and I hastened to answer it, before the noise became more insistent and roused Salem. I opened it to reveal the similarly exhausted face of the Dalish warden, Velanna. We had shared several awkward exchanges upon my arrival to the Keep, stepping silent around each other, avoiding eye contact. The uncomfortable tension had built to a crescendo, wherein the elf had drawn herself up to her full height, and in a tone quite reminiscent of Morrigan's acidic verbiage, told me _emphatically_ that she would not _touch_ my shemlen warden even if all she had lost were to be returned to her.

In a decided fit of feminine, umbraged pique, I had descended to her level, beginning an argument that ended with weapons drawn and magic being flung about the room. Salem had intervened, nearly snapping Velanna's staff and breaking my wrist in her ferocity. Then, with trademark dark humor, she had smiled the sweetest smile, her eyes had lit like a child's at Yule, and she had said "For me?" in the most saccharine, honeyed tone, before exclaiming, in a roar like thunder "Idiots!" She flung our weapons to the floor and departed, leaving Velanna and I stunned, staring at each other, lost for words.

We had descended into laughter, reconciled our differences, and parted as friends. I smiled at the elf, who had proven that she was wise, and, despite her blunt nature, that she cared for all life.

"Leliana," Velanna returned my smile, "I…everyone has been asking after Salem. Is she all right? Mistress Woolsey has managed to find me at least seven times, asking the same questions. Creators…I had to sneak past Varel in order to knock on the door."

I smiled, knowing that the seneschal had attached himself to Salem as a guardian, a father-figure, and a man who would walk through hellfire in order to support her in whatever manner he could. He felt that he still owed her the debt of his son's life and freedom. He had been a rock for me, a constant support when Salem was away, risking her life for her land yet again.

"She is sleeping off a profound case of exhaustion." I kept my voice low. "Bruised to hell, and several deep lacerations, but nothing life threatening. Please tell me there is no cause to wake her."

"No." Velanna shook her head. "Varel and Woolsey are keeping everything well in hand. Oghren and Sigrun returned this afternoon. Sigrun is still resting and Oghren has risen only to drink himself into yet another stupor. Nathaniel sent a messenger bird, saying that he is remaining with his sister for a time and aiding in the restoration of her home."

"What of Anders? Justice?" I asked after the mage and Fade spirit, the two wardens that Velanna had not mentioned.

Her vivid eyes darkened. "I believe it is best if Salem relays that particular tale."

A gnawing worry crept inside my heart and nestled there. Of all the wardens, Salem had constantly found herself on guard near the volatile mage. He had often stated his resentment of the warden title, though he was permitted to live outside the Circle, not fear the justice of the templars, and seek out his own enjoyment from life. He had turned his time to devising arguments against the Chantry, against the king's orders…plotting a revolution. And Justice…Justice had only encouraged him, as a spirit is absolute in its cause, with little open-mindedness as to the extenuating circumstances.

_Not everything can be won with war. _I shook my head. _That which is corrupt must be cured from the source of its corruption, not fighting the soldiers it has cultivated. That can end in but bloodshed, loss, and pain. It is the reason the Maker has chosen…me. A bard, one with knowledge of poisons and their cures. _

"I see. Is there anything you need?" I asked.

"No." she offered me a slight smile. "Now that I have news, I can keep the thronging masses from their endless inquiries."

"Thank you, Velanna." I reached out and squeezed her shoulder, imparting my gratitude, knowing that her magic had saved Salem's life on more than one occasion, that her keen eye for strategy had won many a victory.

"I have a new life." Velanna nodded. "Not one that I chose, but one that I am increasingly learning to be grateful for. I have much to learn from the wardens, and, if the Creators see fit, to bring back to my people. I have Salem to thank for that…a cruel mercy, turning me away to my pain, not allowing me to forget what has made me stronger, and more kind. My…my Keeper would have been astounded by her."

I nodded in silent affirmation. Salem had changed the world. Before she had come into my life, I believed that Thedas thrived from deceit, machinations, the pride and arrogance of those in power. But a single, simple woman, with humility, grace, and quiet, quiet strength, had managed to shake it at its very foundations. All races would be impacted by her sacrifices, by her words.

"I still find myself in that particular position." I admitted.

"As do I." Velanna agreed, reading my desires. "I will take my leave."

She departed and I shut the door, turning as I heard Salem's breathing change, quicken. "Andraste's blessed ass, I ache." Salem muttered, half into her pillow.

I winced as I heard the harshness in her voice, realized that her throat must be tender and raw. I sat on the edge of the bed and moved her tangled, dirty hair away from her face. "I am quite proud of you, my love." I spoke. "You managed not to return completely in shreds, though your collapse was quite over-dramatically rendered."

"Speaks the woman who barraged me with inquiries in a language that I cannot comprehend." Salem shifted, groaning as she used muscles that had to have been tight and torn.

"I worried for you." I confessed as heavy emotion choked my voice. "The siege of the Keep was so _fierce…_"

At that, Salem rolled over, her eyes wide and glowing with concern. "Are you all right?" she rasped, moving a clumsy hand over the bandage on my arm. "I…Maker's breath, but I am worthless."

"Quite well." I assured her, leaning down, pressing my forehead to hers, placing a soft kiss on her chapped lips. "You need not worry, my love. All is well, you are home, and safe, and here," I placed my cup into her hand, "this should soothe your throat."

Salem took the tea, sipping the hot, sweet liquid, a look of relief spreading across her features. She handed the cup back to me with a smile on her face. "My goddess." she whispered, her hand reaching up, fingers ghosting over my cheek. "You are too good to me."

"If I can even repay a measure of what you have given me," I breathed, setting the tea side and laying my body alongside hers, "I will forever be content."

Salem pressed against me, her arm folding across my waist, sending delightful shivers down my spine.

_So warm. So strong. Strong enough to carry a world, fight monsters and gods…so tender. Gentle enough to break the hardest heart. _

"Here, like this," her damaged voice whispered against my ear, "I have all that I need."

Her breathing evened, deepened, and I did not have to look to see that she had once again succumbed to slumber. I lifted the hand that held me to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss of gratitude and love to her scarred skin before returning it to its place.

I closed my eyes and joined her in a healing sleep, knowing that tomorrow would come, and that, no matter the circumstance, it would dawn bright, beautiful, and full of promise.


	37. Chapter 37

**Salem**

"Stay still." Leliana cautioned, smiling at me in the dim glow of the moonlight. "I do not think anything is broken, but it would be best to be absolutely sure."

"As you say." I gripped the bedcovers as Leliana lifted the leg of my trousers, examining the purple and red mess of my knee.

She probed the swollen skin with gentle fingertips and I hissed at the assault. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes as she continued to assess the injury, attempting to focus instead on the warmth of her touch and the blessed comfort of her presence.

"Finished." she breathed, and I opened my eyes, smiling at her.

"And your final verdict?"

She shook her head, glaring at me with dancing eyes. "As ever, you have a penchant for actively destroying yourself." she confirmed. "But I am happy to say that it seems to be but an ugly sprain. I would refrain from putting weight on it for a short while, but I assume such a wish would fall on deaf ears?"

_In another lifetime, you would have been correct. But I…I promised to change, and now that the war is ended, I can at last see such a thing through. _

"I will not stir a step until so ordered." I declared, watching with eager interest as her eyes sparked and her mouth quirked up in a smile. "Though I imagine that I will have a difficult time following my own commands…I seem to heal more slowly as of late."

Leliana frowned as she rose and soaked a cloth in a bucket of freezing well water. I knew the same thoughts that plagued me also tormented her. And that she had to have noticed. Injuries that would have seemed trivial during the Blight had begun to take their toll on my body. Scars took longer to form, bruises longer to fade, and pain had become more insistent.

Neither of us would voice our fears, that it was the taint overtaking my blood, subverting my body's inclination to heal. _There must be more time_, I forced myself to believe. _Not this fast. It cannot possibly be progressing this fast. _

"No more of talk like that." Leliana laid the freezing cloth across my knee in an attempt to alleviate the swelling and numb the pain. "Although I do wish Anders were here; he is second only to Wynne in his grasp of healing magic."

The mention of the mage's name brought back the dark memories and the confusion that my nightmares had been unable to help me sort through.

"Anders…will not be returning." I hung my head, wishing that somehow I could have done more for the obviously troubled young mage.

No matter my warnings, no matter my attempts to get him to see reason, Anders had remained lost in his bitterness. Even Leliana…even Leliana had not been able to make headway with him. She had tried explaining to the man that, while the faults he found with the Chantry were well-founded and true, that an uprising of mages would do little to change the world as it stood. The both of us, knowing war as we did, knew that it should be a last attempt to effect change…but Anders would not listen.

"What happened, Salem?" Leliana asked, reaching out and turning my face towards her. "What happened to write such a darkness in your gaze?"

"We…we secured the city." I launched into the tale, forcing the images away, the broken bodies, the orphaned children screaming in the streets, the stench of blood and death and fear. "And discovered a tunnel leading into the Deep Roads…just outside the city. As we journeyed in…we met the Architect."

Leliana's own eyes darkened then. Though she had never met the strange, sentient, monstrous would-be liberator of the darkspawn, she understood his motivations, but loathed his methods. The fact that we were both aware he had stolen my blood…rich and rank with an Archdemon's…perfect for tearing the darkspawn from the hive mind and into freedom, had done little to earn her affection.

"We spoke," I inhaled deeply, "and it came down to a choice. A choice between him…and _the Mother_." I spat the term he had given to the vile creature, ensconced in relative safety beneath the earth, breeding more hideous children than I could ever countenance.

"A choice between two evils." Leliana breathed, recognizing the dilemma from the vision that had proceeded our nightmarish separation. "And, in order to live…one must be set free."

"Yes." I nodded. "I chose the lesser. Even though it was his forces that attacked Vigil's Keep…the Architect has no war-like agenda. He wants but freedom…freedom for him and his kind. The Mother…it would be yet another full scale war, Leli. A war with an enemy that does not rely on a single voice and mindless violence, but a war against an enemy that strategizes, thinks as we think…an unholy conflict on an epic scale."

"You made the right decision." she assured me. "It must have been so difficult…"

"Justice went mad." I shuddered, remembering the wicked blue light emanating from the Warden Kristoff's decaying corpse. "He threatened me, citing my destruction and the end of all that I loved if I did not see both the Architect and the Mother suffer for their crimes against humanity. It…it would be so easy, Leliana, if all things on this earth were as plainly delineated as they are in the Fade. But we could not win…no matter our power, we had spent the entire day in combat…there was no way we could achieve a victory."

"I know, my love." Leliana sat behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, drawing me close, kissing the tears that had gathered on my cheeks. "You did what you must, as ever you have."

"I tried to explain." the sickening feeling of defeat washed over me and I curled my hands into fists, feeling the bite of my nails against my palm. "I tried to _reason_ with him…to no avail. He simply shouted all the more fiercely, declaring how this feckless morality was the core of rot in the human race. That decisions such as the ones I made were the reasons the mages still wore unjust chains…it was the perfect mutiny, Leliana. Anders, at last, had the opportunity to rebel, and an ally I could not hope, in my current state, to battle. He offered Justice a life of seeking truth, fighting for liberty, changing the waking world in a direct manner, not providing silent inspiration from the Fade. They…merged."

I remembered the wash of blinding light, the scent of scorched lyrium in the air, the fear present on all faces, even Oghren's. The overwhelming stench had been that of a dessicated, rotting corpse as Justice fled the shell of Kristoff's body and entered Anders'.

"It could not have been a more gruesome inharmony." I shuddered, feeling warmth infuse me as Leliana pressed a feather-light kiss to my shoulder. "Nothing like the gentle spirit that Wynne carries within her. Their…joining…was violent, terrifying, against all laws set down by magic and the Maker. Anders put Kristoff's sword to my neck, and his eyes blazed an unreal blue, as he proclaimed that _I_ should be punished for allowing the evildoer to walk free…that _he_ would see justice done…and I knew the man was not himself."

Leliana's fingers absently brushed the red, scabbed line on my throat, her breath shuddering as she realized how close she had come to losing me at the hands of one who might have been a friend.

"At the last moment, Anders regained control of himself, a wild fear in his eyes, a grim realization of what he had done. He dropped the blade and said that, for my kindness, for giving him a life he did not want, but the freedom that he needed, he would let me live…this once. Then he left, not even bothering to support us through the last battle. If ever we meet again, he _will_ kill me, Leliana."

"Then you must make certain that your paths will never cross." Leliana's voice had hardened, cold as steel and twice as sharp. "If their union is anything like that of Wynne and her spirit, Anders will become immensely powerful…and he does not have the age and wisdom to ground him in a sensible course of action. Maker's breath…this world is going to burn."

"What have I done, Leliana?" I asked, feeling guilt and shame claw at my spirit. "What sort of world am I leaving to you?" tears poured from my eyes afresh.

"Salem, Salem…hush, love." she pulled me tighter against her and pressed her lips against my hair. "You have done all you can, and that is worlds more than any other living being could achieve. It is not the kingdoms we build on this earth that matter, not the cities of stick and stone and thatch, but the kingdoms crafted from heart to heart. Let enemies assail us, let stones be broken, let cities burn…for that which is in our hearts lives on."

"But…"

"You have built for us a beautiful world, Salem. A world that once existed only in legends. Where heroes were kind, compassionate…so very, very human. I have seen the sum of salvation in your eyes, the greatness that lies within your heart. And I am blinded by its beauty. Let this business with Anders trouble you no further."

"Why should I not? Why should I not seek him out, keep him from harming himself or another?"

"Because that is not meant for you." she spoke with the surety of one who could gaze into the future. "You were promised a life of peace, but it is _you_ who must see that promise through, my love. You are not this world's sole protector, and there is no shame in that."

I let her words soak into me, like a balm into a burn. _A life of peace…a woman of peace. Yes, this fate was promised. But, in order to accept it, I must learn to look at this life with different eyes. The warden's reach is far…and I am certain that Woolsey will alert the First Warden immediately to Anders' rebellion…the end result does not bode well, but it is long past time I cease concerning myself with such things. I am sworn to my wife, I am sworn to this land, and I will cling to this hard-won peace for as long as it may last. _

"Harvest is coming." I altered the subject, turning it to more joyous matters. "What would you say to celebrating the healing of a land?"

"Yes." she hugged me closer. "Of course, yes. Let there be dancing, joy and song; let life be new again." her lilting accent made the old poem ring fresh in my mind, full of beauty and promise. "Celebrate, love, and laugh once more; let anguish fade, and peace begin."


	38. Chapter 38

**ONE YEAR LATER**

**Leliana**

Varel nudged open the door, sifting through a stack of folded parchment. "Royal correspondence for you, arle…" he looked up and I smiled at him, watching as he closed his eyes and sighed. "My apologies, Lady Leliana, but would it be too much of an imposition on your wife to keep set times in her office?"

"Varel," I rose from behind Salem's simple desk and relieved him of his burden, "why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?"

He nodded in mute resignation and removed the letter he had been seeking from the beginning. It bore the Theirin seal in crimson wax, and had been addressed to Salem.

"And where would I find our errant arlessa?" he asked, a longsuffering look in his kind blue eyes.

"I shall deliver it." I replied, plucking the missive from his hand. "If I must read and sign one more document, then I believe my eyes shall cross and remain there, forever fixed in that absurd position. Besides," I looked through the window to the sun, savoring the slight, warm breeze that entered, "it is quite a beautiful day, and it would be a shame to waste it within four walls."

"Signing documents?" Varel's eyes narrowed. "Is that not a task reserved for those who wear the title of liege lord?"

I tossed a canny smile at him. "Did I never mention that exact forgery was among my many dubious talents?" I asked, grinning as the man paled to a delightful shade of ashen grey.

"I am beginning to have sympathy for that viper accountant sent by the wardens." Varel bemoaned his fate. "However, none would believe the tales that come from this province…"

I patted the man on the shoulder as I made for the exit. "Do not begrudge her a day in the sun, Varel." I said, my throat tightening with repressed sorrow.

I did not say the words that we both knew followed my first statement. _That there might not be many days left. This past year, _I squeezed my traitorous eyes closed as they threatened me with tears, _has been so wonderful. Amaranthine is prospering again; the dark times have faded. Yes, there were trials, discontented nobles stripped of their high standard of living, court squabbles, the typical bandits, mercenaries, wild animals…but the guard and militia do not lack for soldiers in their ranks, and Salem's form of justice has been greeted with respect and approval from her people. The commoners know that they have her ear, her respect…they trust her…they __**love **__her._

_Even now, _I smiled as I shielded my eyes from the sun as I walked into the field's that lay beyond the keep, searching for Salem's tall, broad-shouldered figure, _she works among her people, sharing in the hard labor of the harvest._

But, it was no secret to any who worked in the Keep and knew Salem well…her vibrant life was fading. I rose each morning, despising the fate that had done this to the woman I loved so dearly. Her sleep had grown more troubled than it was during the Blight…she scarcely slept at all. Her right leg, permanently injured at Fort Drakon, had grown weaker still, though Salem remained too stubborn to resort to a cane.

I caught sight of her, standing tall in the field of billowing, golden wheat. I stopped, watching as her powerful arms swung the sickle as dexterously as she once wielded her blades. In this moment, I could pretend that all was well, that her skin had not paled further, that the dark circles beneath her eyes were a temporary malady. In this moment, I could reflect on the perfect year we had spent with each other, in love, in life, in utter and absolute bliss…and not torment myself with the knowledge that it would end.

_So beautiful_, I thought, treading delicately amidst the shorn wheat. _Maker, when you formed her from the beginning, did you know you would create something so flawless? Did you know that her trials and troubles would but brighten her steel, and cut her diamond into a gem of such magnitude and worth that the world trembles? _

"Salem?" I called, watching as she turned, as her silver-blue eyes sparked with heat and passion, an expression that had never changed, no matter what we endured.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" she asked, rubbing sweat from her brow and leaving a roguish streak of dirt. "Or do the gods walk among men?"

Still, _still_, I blushed at the compliment, delivered in a low voice that sent shivers down my spine. I gathered my fraying composure and managed to conjure a look of playful disapproval.

"Flattery will gain you nothing." I chided, though I did not mean it. "You are in quite the bit of trouble, Arlessa Cousland. Varel is not quite pleased with our arrangement for your signatures."

Salem laughed, a song whose melody I would never tire of. "Is that so?" she asked, leaning down and stealing a kiss as I approached. "I thought my scheme quite brilliant…alas…it would seem I have no skill for dodging the iron-clad rules of law."

I took her hand in mine, startled to find that, even in the heat of the day, and despite the work she had been doing, her skin was cold. I tried to control the worry that flitted across my face, but I had never been able to hide anything from her.

"What troubles you, dear heart?" the familiar question, in a tone that had rescued me from nightmares, eased my frantic thoughts, comforted me in my darkest moments.

"Are you certain you are not over-exerting yourself?" I asked, dreading the calm, flippant answer that had always greeted these inquiries.

Salem looked to the sky, her brow furrowed with thought. "I would not contest the notion." she grinned, but her honesty touched me. "I must say I would not mind escaping from the heat and partaking of food and drinking with an extraordinary goddess."

I wrapped my arm around her, providing intimacy and support, for both her and myself. "Unfortunately, the goddess sent word. Her caravan was delayed, and you shall have to make do with my company."

Salem laughed at the weak joke. "I suppose I can resign myself." she pressed her lips against my hair, her gentle touch quickening the beat of my heart.

"You are incorrigible." I muttered.

Several of the workers called out to us as we continued towards the keep, thanking Salem, smiling widely at a noble woman with dirt caked beneath her nails and smudged across her face. A woman who wore roughspun linen and dull, patched leather boots, who held herself as one of them…a servant and worker of the land. Pride surged through me and I held her tighter, cherishing her nearness, her strength, her _magnificence. _

We entered the Keep and adjourned to Salem's office. She sat down and stared at the mountains of paperwork with such dread that I laughed, her expression was so comical. She glared at me with false anger.

"By all means," she instructed, gesturing to the mess, "mock me in my misery."

"Misery that you have managed to thrust upon me." I nodded, wagging my finger in a decent mimicry of Wynne's disapproval. "Countless times, might I add. You are fortunate that I have not incited a rebellion against you."

Salem smiled and I shook my head as I thrust Alistair's letter into her hand. "Varel was adamant that you receive this as soon as possible. Water or wine, my love?"

"Water, please." she requested, her smile replaced by a look of smouldering desire that made me weak in the knees.

I fetched our drinks and returned to find Salem pondering the letter, scarcely looking at me as I handed her a cup of water. "Is everything all right?" I asked, taking the seat across from her and lifting my wine to my lips, savoring the delicate favor of Amaranthine's finest vintage.

"We've been summoned to Denerim." Salem said, still examining the letter with a dubious expression. "In three months time."

"Not another Landsmeet, I should hope." I shuddered, remembering the last one that had been called, the hours of endless debate about King Alistair's proposed integration of mages into the populace.

The king and my wife had won the day, persuading their fellow nobles to see the unfair restrictions that had been placed upon the mages, promising careful monitoring by the templar order. Eamon had backed them, though his own experience at the hands of magic had been anything but pleasant. The fact that the man placed such trust in Alistair had swayed many of the other recalcitrant nobles, and Salem had been naught but laughter and smiles during the journey home, her eyes alight, thinking of Wynne, no doubt, who would see those she considered her siblings and children at last allowed to live life in the manner they saw fit.

"No." Salem's eyebrow quirked upward. "It would seem that Alistair is to take a wife, and we are required to be at the wedding."

"Truly?" my heart filled with delight, pure, unadulterated joy at the thought of Alistair at last having found one to stand with him, to rule by his side, to be a support and friend in dark times.

It was no secret that the king had loved Salem, with all of his heart. I knew the grip of that love, its fierceness, its unending ache and longing. That he had managed to sever himself from such pain and find peace gladdened me to no end.

"Yes." Salem nodded, tracing her scarred fingers over the words I could not see.

"What are you concealing from me, Salem?" I asked. "I would have thought such news would thrill you as it does me."

"Make no mistake, I am thrilled for him...but I am afraid this news will not please you, Leliana." my wife looked across the desk, the mirth in her eyes dampened by wariness.

"Tell me, Salem."

"It would seem our beloved king has at last found one worthy to rule at his side." Salem handed me the parchment, and I paled as I took it, reading the name as Salem spoke. "The first knight of the realm…Ser Miranda Cauthrien."


	39. Chapter 39

**Salem**

_I should have noticed_, I mused, watching Leliana, intent on deciphering her reaction to this unexpected news. _Cauthrien__ sat so close to him at the Landsmeet, gauging every noble's speech, whispering in Alistair's ear. But never once did he give __**any**__ inclination that he cared for her as more than an advisor, more than the knight she swore to be and the position he appointed her to. _

"Leliana?" I asked, noticing that her face had gone the stark white shade indicative of wrath, and her expression had become a study in fury. "Leliana, is everything all right?"

She flung Alistair's letter down on the desk and stood, holding her glass in a white-knuckled grip. "What do you think, Salem?" she asked, her voice flat and accent thick. "The man is marrying a traitor, and you have the _gall_ to ask me if I am _all right_!?"

I remained seated, having feared this reaction. Leliana had refused to even look Cauthrien's way during the last Landsmeet, although the woman had at least attempted a civil greeting to both of us.

_But I knew the woman she was…before Loghain wrapped his claws around her and filled her head with exaggerated realities of dreams she had held from girlhood. A child of a noble house, though her family's gold had run out, their lands foreclosed on…she still had the opportunity to better her station through knighthood. And that is all she wanted, to bring honor to her country, and later, much later, to Loghain…the man who became her patron, elevating her from a rank and file soldier and allowing her to place food on her family's table. _

"Do you intend to sit there, silent as a stone?" Leliana demanded, draining her glass and slamming it atop the desk in an uncharacteristic display of frustration.

I glanced at the cup, noticing the imprints of her fingers in the soft metal. I looked up to see her oceanic eyes, tossed and churning like stormy seas, not the calm welcome I had become accustomed to.

"What could I say, Leliana?" I asked, lifting my hands palm up in question. "That I am unhappy? That I am displeased? In truth, I can find nothing but joy in my heart for Alistair. Why would you begrudge him this?"

Leliana raised her brow and her lips trembled. "What in hell is _wrong_ with you!?" she demanded. "Do you not even _recall_ what that…that _bitch_ did to you!? Have you gone blind to your scars, for I still _see_ them, Salem! Every _fucking_ night, I witness the wreck that her and those like her have visited on you, and you ask that I be _happy_!?"

"No." I shook my head.

"Then what do you want!?" she demanded, flinging her hands into the air in desperation. "This…this is all too much, too soon, and I…" she tangled her hand in her hair and looked out of the window with a truly desolate expression, "…I need to think."

"Leli…"

"No." she grappled for words and I could see the torment in her eyes, that she had been back-spiraled into terrifying memories of our past.

She walked from the room and I remained in my seat, staring at the letter, fighting for my own comprehension.

I harbored no ill-will towards Miranda Cauthrien…I never had. In a different time, in a different life, our positions could have so easily been reversed. I knew the woman had done what she thought best, that she labored beneath the lies of a man who had won her full loyalty, her full trust, to the point where she believed his deceit above the evidence of her own eyes.

_Knowing this…knowing her…how can I resent her actions? She was no Rendon Howe, driven by greed and madness. She did what she thought she must…as I did…so many times. How can I justify my doings as better than her own? _

I rubbed the scar in the center of my palm, the faint white line, a harsh reminder of a knife that had been driven through my skin and into the floor of that fetid, filthy dungeon. I tore what shards of memory I recalled from that time to the forefront of my mind.

_How that must have shattered Leliana_, I thought, forcing myself to stand, even though my muscles ached and my joints protested. _Not simply to walk into a dungeon, but to see me so weak, so vulnerable and broken…by Cauthrien's hand. I understand, dear heart…it is so much more difficult to forgive those who have harmed those we love. _

I strode from the room, knowing that I would find Leliana walking the parapets of Vigil's Keep, as she often did when she needed time for contemplation. Above the now lively little town that had arisen outside the Keep, there was a singular peace to be found in the wind's constant song.

I found her pacing forth and back, overlooking the rocky hills that would turn into the rugged coastline of Amaranthine, if one traveled far enough.

"Leliana." I called to her as she moved like a tiger in a cage.

"I do not wish to hear it, Salem." she waved me away with a dismissive demons. "No more explanations or reasons, no impassioned declarations of the sanctity of _forgiveness_! Can you not, _for once_, let me grapple with my own demons?"

I smiled and leaned against the stone of the doorway. "As ever you have done for me?"

She drew in a deep breath, preparing for another tirade, then visibly deflated. "You have learned _too_ well." she sighed and chose a precarious perch on the battlements. "Turning my own thoughts and words against me. Quite bardic, my love."

"We are both guilty of the crime of knowing and loving each other too well." I sat beside her and wrapped my arm around her waist.

"I am ready for your sermon." Leliana rested her head on my shoulder and I ran my fingers through the flame-red hair she had let grow long once more.

"I have none." her nose bumped my jaw as she pulled away to stare at me in shock.

"The great Salem Cousland at a loss for a moral lesson?" she asked with a humored, incredulous tone. "What is this world coming to?"

_An end…at least…for me. Let me give you one thing more, Leliana. At least let me try…to set your heart at ease. So that, in three months time, we both can celebrate the finding of a love. _

"Let me tell you a story, Leliana." I smiled as she narrowed her eyes. "And see, if at its ending, you might not find your perception somewhat changed."


	40. Chapter 40

**Leliana**

I settled into the warmth of Salem's arms, watching as her scarred eyes faded back to the past of a war-torn country, a land in peril…much as it had been in our lifetime. I waited for her to speak, attempting to calm the anger burning in my heart, the feeling of betrayal I felt at the invitation of a man who had been my friend and Salem's brother.

_The man who helped me carry her from Howe's dungeon, who saw the woman he loved laid low and nearly murdered by the traitor he would now take to wife! The very thought is…is __**unforgivable. **_

"Cauthrien was a vassal house." Salem began her story, her voice entrancing, soothing, as though trained for the bardic arts. "When Ferelden was under Orlesian rule, Lane Cauthrien, her father, would have been the equivalent of a lord. When Maric, my father, and Loghain called a war council, Lane was the first there, offering his troops, his home, whatever he could to aid the effort for freedom. Miranda," she spoke the woman's first name with an air of affection that grated against my ears, "was like me. A child born of battle."

_How…how can she feel a kinship with that woman? Were I to greet the faces of any of my torturers again, they would meet with a quick end. There can be __**no**__ sympathy for one who sinks to those depths. None!_

"But the war with Orlais bankrupted Lane." Salem shook her head. "He gave everything, Leliana. He sold acres and acres of his land, his knights perished, his coffers ran dry. At the end of everything, when Maric was crowned king, Lane Cauthrien and his family were little more than paupers. He had sold his estates to a rich merchant to see to the arming of his soldiers, and moved his wife and daughter to a small farmstead, the last holdings he had in his name. The crown…the crown simply did not have enough gold to make reparations to those who had lost everything, and Miranda's mother was no Eleanor Cousland.

While father was off fighting, my mother ran the accounts with sharp eyes and razor wit, investing, trading with other countries, promising interests in a freed Ferelden that were too profitable to pass up. She took advantage of the war, smuggling goods out of Highever and into foreign lands, dodging tariffs and the exorbitant fees of merchants and fences, keeping our supply of gold well in hand. Lane…Lane was not so lucky."

_Funny, _I looked at Salem in a new light, _I would never have thought that she inherited her strategic mind from her mother…her father was the soldier and yet…how easy it is to see. How very much I wish I could have known them, Salem. How I wish they had not been torn from you in such a cruel manner. _

"But Lane Cauthrien was a good man, an honest man, and a consummate soldier. He accepted his lot and retained his title, for all the good it did in a rebuilding country. Maric, under Loghain's advice, named new nobles, and another family rose to power in Lane Cauthrien's province, and his family was all but forgotten. Lane consigned himself to being but a simple farmer, but Miranda…she grew upon the tales of battle, of the heroism of Ferelden knights and soldiers. She fought and fought for the chance, entering local festival tournaments, hoping to catch the eye of someone wealthy enough to patronize her. But no one would."

"You would turn her tale into a tragedy in order to garner my sympathies?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and feeling a spark of anger. "Do not trifle with me, Salem."

"I am not turning her tale into anything but what it is." Salem smiled at me with such warmth that the layer of ice surrounding my heart began to give way. "Miranda's fate changed during the harvest season. She saw a man besieged and outnumbered by bandits and went to his aid, cutting his attackers down with a simple sickle. After dispatching them, she took the man into her home and tended his wounds. That man," Salem's brow creased, "was Loghain Mac Tir."

Realization flooded over me. "Then that is how…"

"Yes." Salem nodded. "He gave her everything she had dreamed of. Honor for her family, a blade in her hand, the remembrance of the name Cauthrien. Loghain took her under his wing, pulled her from a life of ignominy, and she _slaved_ for his approval. Nothing was good enough. She built her strength until she could wield the Summer Sword, a blade no man can lift. He was her paragon, her driving force, the one she would give _anything_ to please…and thus she followed his orders; believed his words above the evidence of her eyes."

Salem turned her eyes to mine, and they were deep and full of sorrow, sorrow for the next words that fell from her lips. "Do you see, Leliana? Do you understand? There is," she winced and pinched the bridge of her nose, "there is so much similar between you and Miranda Cauthrien. For, at one time, would you not have done the same for Marjolaine?"

I gasped as her question cut through the flesh of my heart, pulling it from my chest and baring it to the merciless heat of the sun.

"How…how _dare_ you!" I pulled away from her and struck her across the cheek with an open palm, stunned by the audacity of her inquiry. "How _dare_ you even _consider_ the possibility that I have _anything_ in common with that…that…"

"Woman." Salem muttered, holding her hand to her reddened cheek. "A simple, eager woman…granted the life that she desired, the approval of a powerful patron, possessed of a cunning mind and ruthless agenda."

Her words continued to slice at me, a calm, quiet yearning for me to step outside of myself and see…see this in the manner that she herself did.

"Would…would you not have done the same?" Salem entreated, begging me to prove her wrong, knowing that I could not. "Had Marjolaine not betrayed you, would you not have obeyed her every order, even against your own thoughts and conscience? Even unto the torture of an innocent woman?"

"Stop." I begged, knowing that I had no right to ask for her forgiveness, knowing that I had committed Cauthrien's crimes, over, over, and over again. "Salem, please, stop; I…I cannot bear this!"

Salem rose and I backed away from her, wanting to hide from the woman I had struck, who looked at me with nothing but kindness, kindness I did not deserve.

_She has __**never**__ hurt me…not with intention, and the same is true even now. And yet my hand lashed out in anger and I…Maker's breath, what sort of woman am I…_

"This is not an accusation, Leliana." Salem reached for me and I backpedaled, turning to flee to somewhere quiet, somewhere cold, where I did not have to face my reaction to the woman who had saved my soul, and continued her attempt to preserve it.

Strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a fierce embrace as tears flooded my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

"I know, dear heart." she whispered. "I know you so well; I love you so much. You react in anger because you have changed, because you do not wish to think upon the woman who loved Marjolaine. The woman Cauthrien was when she committed her treason. You react in anger because you fear that, at one time, you might have committed Cauthrien's crimes against someone like me."

Her words were a balm to the wounds she had opened.

_You know me as none other ever could, Salem. You took the time…the time to pull back all the layers of my heart and read the words, memories, and regrets written into each of them. Still, __**still**__ I find myself lacking when I stand beside you. _

"I am not asking you to forgive Ser Cauthrien." Salem whispered, kissing my neck. "But, please, Leliana…forgive the woman who loved Marjolaine. Forgive the Nightingale, dear heart."

"I…" I breathed, stunned by the request. "…I have accepted her, as who I once was and what I once did…"

"It_ isn't_ the same." Salem stressed. "Acceptance is important, essential even, but forgiveness _must_ follow."

I crumbled in her arms. I, who had spoken to Kathyra about forgiveness of self, who had begged Salem to do the same…had failed in the undertaking. I had accepted the Nightingale's gifts, and even her actions, but had never let myself forget the _nightmares_ that she had wrought on others, on the whim of…_how true Salem's words are…_ a powerful patron, possessed of a cunning mind and ruthless agenda.

"How?" I asked, lost yet again, looking to my warden for strength and knowledge and compassion I did not deserve. "Have you? If so, please tell me _how_?"

That devastating smile lit her eyes. "I have." she answered. "I have, Leliana, but only because someone _truly_ good, someone that I _love_ beyond comprehension has forgiven me every transgression."

"Do you…" my lips trembled, my words quavered as I stood in the presence of the purest heart of all Thedas.

"Every sin." she promised, sealing it with a tender kiss. "Every action for which you feel guilt. You are flawless in my eyes, Leliana."

"As is Miranda Cauthrien." I realized, amazed at the depth of the heart of Salem Cousland.

"Yes." she nodded. "Do not think I do not remember. Those moments still haunt my dreaming, and I feel every pull of the scar tissue, every lancet of pain from the injuries. But it serves as a reminder, of how far we can fall…and rise again. Cauthrien has nothing, Leli. A soldier's title, and a pittance of an inheritance. It is no political tether that binds them. Alistair loves her, Leliana, in spite of her flaws, her faults, and her crimes."

"As you love me." I replied, beginning to tremble at the magnitude of her beauty.

Her hand reached out and cupped my cheek. "No." she whispered. "As _you_, Leliana, have ever loved _me_."

_How_, my thoughts rushed through me in a torrent of emotions, guilt, joy, fear…_**love**__…how do you always manage to see the best in me, Salem? You take what I have hidden, deep within myself…and make it __**shine**_.

"I…I am sorry I struck you." I shook my head, wondering at my stupidity.

"Think nothing of it." she murmured, kissing my forehead and leading me back inside the Keep. "Would you be averse to writing and confirming our appearance at the wedding?" she asked, a roguish smile on her lips. "I would do it myself but…your handwriting is so elegant."

The abrupt change of subject confused me and I stared at her. "What bearing has that in this situation?"

Salem grinned and squeezed my hand. "It will be so very _difficult_ for him to read it!" she exclaimed, descending into infectious laughter.

_You make my heart so light_, I leaned into her as we walked down the stairs. _It is a testament to the true measure of your strength, my love. Please, my Maker, _I prayed, _let me have this...have her…a little longer. _


	41. Chapter 41

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

**Salem**

Tears filled my eyes as sun filtered through the high windows of the Great Hall of Fort Drakon. Alistair stood beside Cauthrien, their hands bound together by a length of delicate white silk, signifying the Maker's blessings upon their vows.

_Leliana and I had no cord to bind us_, I thought, looking to my wife, who had schooled her face into an expression of suitable solemnity. _Though if we had, it would have been stained crimson, for the blood that we have spilled together, the passion that binds us, and the tears we have shed. _

Vows were exchanged, and the Revered Mother smiled as she proclaimed them man and wife. Alistair kissed his bride before all assembled, and I smiled as I noticed the faint blush in his tanned cheeks. He had retained a youthful innocence that I envied, a hesitance in the face of intimacy that did not speak of ignorance, but of a great value placed on love.

Light fairly streamed from Cauthrien's face as she returned the kiss with equal ardor, and a faint sound turned my head from the tableau. I turned to see Leliana's face streaked with tears, her lips trembling. Her eyes met mine and her hand reached out. I threaded my fingers through her own.

"I understand." she whispered so that her voice did not carry, and break the sacredness of this moment. "At last, Salem, I understand."

I squeezed the hand that I held and turned my gaze once more to the dais. Ser Cauthrien knelt and the Revered Mother set a crown about her temples.

"The heart of a country must lie with its queen." the Chantry mother spoke. "As the king protects, so must the queen defend. You are sword and shield, separate but equal. Rule in mercy and kindness, gentility and grace. Know ever that you are the servant of the people, and that the crown you wear does not speak of elevation, but of devotion. In all your decisions, remain faithful to the Maker, and follow in His will. Do you accept this adjuration?"

"So I swear." she spoke the old words, with clarity, with strength, with a whole heart.

"Then go in the Maker's grace, Miranda Theirin," the Revered Mother intoned, "and rise a queen."

Alistair knelt beside her, took her hand once more, and stood, facing the people as Arl Eamon strode forward, a grin splitting his face.

"Nobles of the court, people of Ferelden!" he thundered, full of joy. "King Alistair and Queen Miranda Theirin of Ferelden!"

The room burst into applause and raucous cheering, nearly deafening me as the sound rose and crested like a wave. Alistair could not wipe the smile from his face, and I found myself mirroring his expression. As the new couple descended the stairs, a hush fell over the crowd and we knelt as one in an expression of fealty to our king and his new bride, the one woman I could have pictured reigning at his side.

_She has learned_. I allowed another chapter of life to close, a scar to knit at last, so that the pain of the wound might cease. _She has learned to be gentle; she has learned that kindness is not a weakness, that mercy does not bespeak a wavering resolve. Thank you, my Maker, for allowing Alistair a queen of beauty and strength, who can love him as he deserves to be loved…as I never could. _

Alistair stopped and raised his hand, allowing us to rise to our feet. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers across the full beard that he had grown. "I have never stood on ceremony," he claimed, and several of the nobles who lived in Denerim snickered and giggled. "Therefore I shall not dampen the ardor of this occasion with long, over-indulgent speeches. Instead, let us celebrate a year of peace, a year of bounty, and a year of blessing! Tonight, Ferelden, we feast! We dance! We _live_!"

Another roar issued from the crowd and Leliana slipped her arm about my waist, leaning in close.

"He has grown eloquent." she murmured, her voice cutting through the din. "Though, I have to admit, he learned from one whose speeches know no equal."

I narrowed my eyes and smiled at my beautiful wife. "Is something amiss? You are not normally one given to complimenting yourself, dear heart."

She smacked me on the arm in feigned indignation as music began to fill the hall. I spun in front of Leliana and guided her out onto the floor as Alistair led the first dance with his queen. Leliana pressed close against me as we moved in accordance with the rhythm of the strings, and my heart felt as though it might burst from joy.

I held her close to me as we danced, remembering the hardships that we had endured, the sorrow and the suffering that had, at times, separated us, only to bring us back into each other's arms again and again and again.

_I wish never to depart from this embrace_, I thought, even though I could feel time pressing heavily on my shoulders, dragging me further and further away from life. I could feel the heat in my blood, and though I could convince myself, on occasion, that it was lust, or love, or anger…I knew, in my heart, the truth of it. Infection. Taint. Darkness.

"Stop." Leliana murmured against my chest. "No dark thoughts on this day, my love."

"As you say." I pressed a kiss to her hair as the music faded and I felt an authoritative tap on my shoulder.

"Again, sister?" Fergus teased. "How am I to find my bliss if you continue to monopolize the beautiful women of Ferelden?"

"It is the Maker you must blame for your unappealing countenance, Fergus, not I." I returned his jest and turned aside, allowing him to bow before Leliana.

"Might I have the pleasure of a dance?" he asked.

"Of course." Leliana stepped gracefully from my arms into his, winking at me as the music began again and Fergus began the steps of the complicated dance…movements that old injuries would never let me accomplish.

I took a cup of wine from a passing server and leaned against the wall, savoring the sight of my wife and brother laughing and enjoying themselves.

"Still avoiding ceremony, are we, Cousland?" a dark voice roused me from my musings and I looked up to see the queen standing before me.

I fought the stiffness in my right leg as I knelt before her, obeying laws, tradition, and adhering to my position. "My queen." I greeted the woman who had placed me in chains, reviled me, torn my skin and broken my bones.

_Actions based upon the ferocity of her beliefs. Ferocity that, if turned to the nature of Alistair's beliefs, will make her a most excellent ruler. _

"If there is one soul in all of Ferelden whose fealty I will _not_ abide, it is yours." Miranda claimed, kneeling before me and aiding me to my feet. "If you _ever_ bow before me again, Salem Cousland, you will know my wrath."

_I doubt I shall ever look on you again, Miranda_, I thought, dismal.

"Alistair could not have chosen better, my queen." I told her, seeing the war inside her dark eyes.

She had come to speak to me for a reason, though she maintained a careful distance between us, afraid to tread where she felt she had no right.

"Do you," her pale skin flushed, "do you truly believe so?"

"I do." I looked towards my warden brother as he fought the erratic motions of a decidedly flirtatious elderly arlessa. "Though with the dearth of other suitable prospects, I might perhaps concede his choice of you to age alone."

The knight stiffened and sought my face for illumination. I grinned to let her know that my words had been in jest.

"I…I had thought you would be angered." her expression spoke of long worry. "I know…I know the strength of your bond with Alistair, and given our past history…"

"I forgave you long ago." I waved aside her anxiety. "Here, in this very hall. There is no bad blood between us, Miranda."

She shook her head and winced as she adjusted the uncomfortable crown. "Maker's breath, Cousland. _What_ are you? You do not break; you do not hold a grudge…you are every inch a queen, and this crown should have been yours."

"No." I lowered my eyes. "The crown sits on the right brow, Miranda. Though I would ask a favor of you, your highness."

"You try my patience, Cousland." she quipped. "Name it."

"Treat him well." I requested, gesturing to Alistair as he guided yet another terrible dancer across the floor. "Do not question him, save in your moments of privacy. Support him before his people; _love_ him with an open heart. Be honest with him always, in disappointment and approval."

"Treat him as you did." she muttered.

"Oh, no." I laughed aloud, earning a narrow gaze from the knight. "I told the man he was a fool to his face on many occasions, denied his advice multiple times…I lied to him so that he would succeed where I knew he could. I was his mother, then his mentor, now his sister. I jammed a crown about his temples and he has not hated me for it. _That_ is the man that is Alistair Theirin."

"I held the gates with him, when the Archdemon came." Miranda whispered, her eyes glowing as they watched Alistair, holding the same light I knew dwelt in my own gaze when I looked on Leliana. "He stood there, so brave and bold, before what I thought was an unstoppable force. I watched Cailan at Ostagar, charging into battle full of bravado and dreams of grandeur…he thought to earn his father's title, but kingship cannot be earned. I want nothing to do with the crown, Cousland...I love him for the man he is."

"I know. And I never thought you had designs on the crown." I smiled, baffling her yet again. "Make him happy, Miranda. For the sake of one who could not, make him happy."

The knight's eyes narrowed and filled with knowledge only one given to battle and death could possess. "You sound like a warrior who knows they will not return from war."

I nodded, watching as Alistair searched the room, his brown eyes warming as they settled on his queen. "I am." I spoke as he moved towards her. "You will not see me again, Miranda."

Sorrow filled her eyes and she nodded. "I understand then, the favors that you asked. I know I have little right to say this, but trust me, Salem. Alistair will be cared for."

The king appeared and fetched his bride as a lively jig began to play.

"Thank you, Miranda."

I watched them frolic on the dance floor, full of light and flush with love. Warmth filled my heart, intermingled with grief.

"Be well, Alistair." I whispered, turning my gaze from him and seeking Leliana…to grasp what joy was left, and forsake all else.


	42. Chapter 42

**Leliana**

I tapped my foot to the rhythm of the music, the gentle beat of drums, the lilting of flutes, the pulsing serenade of strings. I caught my breath from the recent vigorous number and watched the poetry of the other dancers as they spoke in a much more honest language.

_No matter the situation, the body will always betray a lie before the mind, _Marjolaine's advice slithered through my thoughts.

There had been many rooms such as this in the time she and I had been together. Rooms of opulence, of ceremony, where every step, every twirl, disguised a dagger in the dark. Now, I searched the faces of nobles and commoners alike, seeking out the plots, the deceptions, deep-hidden resentments such as those that had nearly cost Salem her life, that dreadful…_has it been nearly two years? _

I sought the face of Miranda Theirin, determined to see for myself if all was truly as Salem believed; that the knight and Alistair were in love, that this union had not been colored by some traitorous machination. I…I could not be as desperately good as my wife. Time and life had stripped my faith in humankind to the barest of threads, and though Salem had restored it…it could never return to its full strength.

_After all, Salem nearly perished by the blade of one she thought her ally. And yet…that moment with Esmerelle did not change her. Salem did not lose her faith in her people, nor forsake the gentility of her heart. How, my love? How do you walk through this life; how do you remain so kind when all you need do to justify hatred is look upon what others have done to you without cause or reason? _

I scrutinized the king and his new queen as the music slowed, becoming soft and intimate yet again, as it had been for the first dance.

Alistair held his bride close, keeping his arm about her waist, drawing the hand that he held to his lips and placing on it the faintest of kisses. In turn, the former Ser Cauthrien rested her head against Alistair's chest, closing her eyes in a show of absolute trust as he guided her in the steps of the dance.

There were no subtle signals, no tension between their shoulders, tightness in their cheeks, carefully schooled smiles and rehearsed affectations. They were being as honest as possible, clinging to each other in the grip of new love and the obvious comfort they had found together.

_I believed_, I realized, _I believed that the bond was true when they swore their vows, but the voice can be trained into passion, words can be carefully recited in order to convince and persuade. This…this is much more difficult to mimic…I would know. Marjolaine often decried me, saying how blessed I was that many fools did not know my body for the truths that it spoke. I have always been more honest than I knew…but in a subtler, simpler language. A language Salem understood all too well. _

At last satisfied, my heart at ease, I turned away from the intimacy of their moment. _I forgive you, Miranda Cauthrien_, my thoughts whispered, for the sake of my own soul. I remembered what Salem had told me of redemption being found in the love and forgiveness of someone truly good, truly pure.

_There is no darkness in Alistair. He loves her; he forgives her, as does Salem. Who am I to hold a grudge…for, in truth, she has never harmed me in any way. _

I searched the room for Salem, but she had vanished from the hall. I smiled as I thought of her recalcitrance to attend anything that resembled an event of political importance. Fergus had informed me on multiple occasions that Salem was every inch her father's daughter, and that Bryce had not been named "the hermit noble" without good cause.

I slipped from the crowd and up the stairs, shivering as I remembered the last time I had ascended these towers, my hand entwined with Salem's, knowing for certain that she would be lost to me at the end of battle.

_But that did not happen. She took desperate measures for love, and walked out of Heaven and away from those she loved to return to me. She has never left me…never. Why…why do I fear that it shall soon be different? That she will turn her back, walk through the door and into whatever fate may be, leaving me alone in this world with naught but a ring, a tale, and a calling. And…_I exited the staircase and found myself staring into the majesty of a blood-red and indigo sunset…_the memory of a love that will know no equal. _

The glow of the setting sun illuminated my wife's silhouette. I walked towards her and stood where she stood, looking to the sky as her scarred eyes fixed on the ground.

"Some days," she breathed, her voice the low, rough lyricism that had ensnared me from the first, "I cannot fathom that I survived this."

I followed the line of her eyes to the pockmarked stone, pitted where the Archdemon's blood had splattered and melted it away. Salem knelt and moved her scarred fingers over the uneven surface. I could see the clashing of swords in her eyes; witness the ferocity of her memories in the trembling of her hand.

I could not formulate a response, knowing that the blood that had scarred the stone of Fort Drakon flowed within my lover's veins, scorching her from the inside, burning against her heart and slowly draining the life from her.

_What can I say in the face of this…that she is a hero? That she has done the impossible? All this, she knows. All this, she does not accept. _

"Would you do it again, Salem?" I asked, wondering if she harbored any regret for the life she could have lived, had Rendon Howe not become a traitor, had Duncan not come to Highever to recruit, had the Archdemon never risen from its sleep.

She turned to me and the scars in her eyes were softer than I had ever seen them, and I knew. I knew that what time we had was nearing its end.

_I will not shed tears_, I resolved, standing firm. _Not on this day. This is a day of celebration, and I __**will **__**not **__grieve what is not yet gone. _

"Are you happy, Leliana?" she replied to my question with a gentle inquiry. "Have I made you happy, in spite of…" she gestured to the gashes in the stone that symbolized so much more than what they were, "…this?"

"Yes, Salem." I threaded my arm around her waist and rested my head on her chest. "You make me happy. Always."

She sighed, and I knew a smile perched on her lips. "Then yes." she answered, tangling her fingers in my hair. "I would do it all again. I regret nothing."

I recognized her last words; they were those that I had said to her the night before we marched on Denerim, after she had confided Riordan's terrible revelation. I had forgiven fate that night...as she forgave it now.

Salem wrapped her arm around me and took my free hand in her own. "Dance with me, dear heart." she whispered against my ear.

She moved with the artless grace she had ever possessed, leading me in steps that had no music but the symphony of our souls. And so we danced beneath the bloodied sky, dancing for touch, dancing for joy, dancing for _love. _Her lips pressed to mine in a passionate kiss, conveying everything that neither of us knew the words for. I returned it with ardor, shedding the tears that I had foresworn, for they had been altered by her touch. No longer were they tears shed for grief...instead, I wept because of the fullness of my heart, for the happiness it contained was so great that I could not hold the full measure of it within me.


	43. Chapter 43

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

**Salem**

I stared out of the window, watching the sun sink below the horizon. _And such a sight may never be witnessed twice…_

I relaxed in my chair and smiled, looking at the glow of the sunset as the snow reflected the brilliant colors. The winter had been hard, but I rejoiced in that fact, knowing that it would bring a more bountiful harvest, assuring the livelihoods of my countrymen, my friends, for at least another year.

_I have done all that I can_, I turned from the window and took up my quill, staring at my hand, at the faint bruising that lay beneath the layers and sworls of scars. All other eyes had disregarded it, but I knew it for what it was. The weakening of the veins, the spilling of blood as the taint overpowered the limits of the body.

Soon, the mind would begin to fade as the body broke down. Memories would vanish, becoming but hollow mockeries of recollection. The power of coherent speech would slip away, leaving my words broken and distant and jumbled.

I shoved away the thoughts that screamed that all of this had happened too soon. I had forgiven fate so many times, and these last two years had been nothing to me but bliss. I had walked among my people, sharing in their joys and sorrows. I had tread the beautiful, bountiful earth, glorying in sunrise and sunset without the constant threat of battle. I had known such peace, peace beyond comprehension, calm that outstripped understanding.

My father's dream for Ferelden had been one of serenity, and I had seen it come to fruition. I could walk into eternity with tidings of joy, and for that…I was grateful.

_And I have __**loved**_**. **My grip on the quill faltered as I thought of Leliana, waiting for me until I finished this last order of business. She did not know…and I would not tell her. Tonight would be a celebration of life lived, a song written of passion, a dance. Tomorrow, with the sun, I would depart.

I set my lips in a line of resolve, dipped my quill into the inkwell, and began to write.

* * *

_My dearest Alistair,_

_ There are so many things that I wish to put into this letter, but it seems that eloquence always fails me when I attempt to communicate through the written word. I need not play with hints and subtleties, however. You are my warden brother, and you alone can understand what I say when I tell you…it is time. _

_ How I wish I could have spoken to you in person, to tell you all that you have meant to me, both during the Blight and these last years. How immensely __**proud**__ I am of you and all that you have fought for and accomplished. Both of us know that, somewhere, there is a senior enchanter with white hair and blue eyes, smiling with such brightness as to put the sun to shame. That is your doing, my brother. How I wish I could remain and see the world that you would build, one of fairness, justice, and equality. Your kindness and your wisdom have allowed me to become the one thing I never thought I could achieve. I am a woman of peace, Alistair, and I may thank you for that. _

_ I am so grateful that you have found a worthy queen in Miranda. I never harbored any ill-will towards her, no matter what transpired before the Landsmeet. We all did things that caused us no joy and that we took little pride in. Please, never think that I disapproved your choice, for we are not often allowed to choose whom our hearts desire. Be happy. Have children, should the Maker grant you such a gift. Know that somewhere, your father grieves his ignorance about the true son of Ferelden, the one he never knew, but would have __**loved**__. Thank you for not hardening your heart against this land for the misdeeds of its king. Thank you for enduring my demands and desires for you, for accepting the crown and the heavy burden that accompanies it. _

_ And it is because of those burdens that I pen this letter, requesting favors of you, that Amaranthine might continue to prosper. After I am gone, Leliana will not remain here. She has a destiny written for her that outstrips even ours, my brother. Please, if you can, keep watch out for her; do what you can for her, for my sake. Because of this, my title will not pass to her, and I ask that you give it instead to the seneschal of Vigil's Keep and his family. Varel has served me well, and has a consummate knowledge of the law, a respect for justice, and a heart for mercy. He will care for this province as none of the vassal lords ever could, should they be promoted. It is time for the old ways to abdicate in favor of those who have earned the position. _

_ In regards to position, I would recommend Sigrun to be Warden Commander of Ferelden. Velanna will not remain in one place until the Architect is found and her sister recovered. Nathaniel has no desire to remain in Ferelden, and I have no desire to keep him here, where old wounds could but fester and turn raw and angry. Oghren…well…I need not elaborate on his incapability for a position of leadership. However, Varel and the former Legionnaire have already built a good rapport, and the new warden recruits respect her. She serves as my second in the wardens already; I hope it will be naught but a formality to give her the title she all but wears. _

_ I have one last and final request, my king. No fanfare. No parades. No formal shows of mourning. Please let me die as I have ever wanted to live…in peace, in the quiet remembrance of the few I named my friends, and the fewer that I called my family. I have no desire for a stone tomb in Weisshaupt, or any sort of memorial erected in Ferelden. It is enough that my final resting place will be the land I called my home, where I have been happy and blessed these last years. _

_ Be well, Alistair, and know that I love you, as all that you are; warden, brother, and king. Do not grieve over much. I will be waiting for you._

_ ~Salem_

* * *

I signed and sealed the letter, exiting my office for the final time and handing the missive over to a trusted servant, telling them to conscript a courier and take the letter to Denerim with all haste. I paused in the stairwell, adjusting my tunic, smiling as my hands trembled in the manner they had the first time, so long ago.

"Maker," I whispered a prayer, "you have given me so much already. A life lived in peace, in love, in blessings. I would ask but one more thing of you. Please, for this one night, let me be as I was before. Take this weakness and frailty from me; let me love her as she deserves so that she will have a final, exquisite memory to cling to. I know you care for her, and that she will endure, for that is the strength and beauty of her heart. Thank you, my Maker, for hearing this, my final prayer."

I straightened my shoulders as the aches and pains faded from me, as the pallor fled my skin. I paused at the door of my room, looking on the picture before my eyes, nearly brought to tears by its beauty.

Leliana sat before the fire, strumming her lute, singing in the softest timbre…a melody I had never heard. It sounded like a lullaby, but the words were plaintive, a song of the crimes of man, the hardship of mortality, and the end result. My heart cracked for I knew that, after her calling was fulfilled, that the verses of such songs would be rewritten.

_But this one_, I entered the room, _I will hold in my heart. A prayer of hope, though dismal, a promise of joy, though bleak. I trust you, my beautiful, beautiful Leliana. And I will watch you from the heavens, wait for you in paradise…and I will __**rejoice**__ in your life. _


	44. Chapter 44

**Leliana**

I set my lute aside and stared into the flickering fire, watching the flames dance without music, without thought. It seemed that I could remain as I was for an eternity. Warm. Content. Loved. I had lacked for nothing these years, and the heart that had once longed to wander had found both home and haven in the land that witnessed my birth.

"I could listen to you sing forever." Salem's voice came to me from across the stone floor, full of warmth and tender affection.

She sat behind me and laced her arms about my waist, perching her chin on my shoulder and staring into the flames with me.

"Could you?" I asked, wondering, not for the first time, how long that forever would be.

"You would choose tonight to begin to doubt?" she asked, a subtle smile in her voice, an indulgent smile, a loving expression of which I could never tire.

Her hand covered my own and I flinched. I had grown accustomed to the ever-present chill of her skin. But now, it seemed as though she burned hot with fever. Alarmed, I turned to see her face, mouth opening in shock as I witnessed her eyes.

They shone with an unearthly light, a scathing gentleness. The scars in them had faded so as to be non-existent, as though she need no longer see so far to witness mortality. The calm resignation in them caused my heart to beat faster, and I understood what she would not say…

_For she has never spoken of her death, or of final farewell. Since we were reunited, she has lived each day to its full extent, anticipating this moment...the moment wherein the dream must vanish...and the gift be returned to its giver._

My lips began to tremble as I reached up to brush the scar on her cheek. "So soon?" I breathed, hating the weakness in my voice, the shaking that had taken over my entire body.

_I thought…_tears pierced my eyes, fierce and harsh and fiery…_I had thought I would be ready for this; that my faith would see me through, but I cannot…Maker, I __**cannot**__ fathom losing her! How…how do I even begin to think of our lives as separate…not from a cruel twist of fate but by death __**itself**_!?

"Always, you see what you should not." Salem pulled me back against her, into her warmth and strength. I curled into a tight ball of recalcitrance and grief, afraid of looking at her and knowing…knowing that soon I would not know the embrace of her arms ever again. "Leliana." she whispered, the haunting resonance of her voice turning my name into a song. "Look at me, dear heart."

I forced myself to lift my eyes to her own as her hands began to soothe the shivering that would not ease. Soft, gentle lips kissed away the tears on my cheek and her dexterous, scarred fingers worked through the tangles of my hair.

"Give me this." she asked, making a request as I had never before heard. "Give me this time with you, free from the tears of grief."

"How?" I managed to speak through the sorrow that gagged me. "How can you ask such a thing of me, Salem? I can see in your eyes…the scars are diminished. The death in them has faded into acceptance…you cannot know how this _tears_ at my soul; how it strangles my spirit!"

"I do." she consoled me, pressing a feather-light kiss to my temple. "Oh, Leliana, I _do_. And though I grieve that we shall be parted, that grief is drowned beneath the _love_ that pounds through my veins. Every beat of my heart surges with _joy_, for I am holding all that I ever desired."

"You break me with words." I leaned against her chest, listening to the beat her heart, strong, steady, sure. "Don't leave me, Salem. Please," words faded into a harsh sob that wrenched from the depths of my soul, "_please_ do not leave me."

I knew the request was cruel; I knew that her heart must have broken beneath it, but she said nothing. Nothing decrying the ridiculous uselessness of my plea, nothing judging me for my weakness in the face of fate and future. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and helped me to my feet. She steadied me with her beautiful, scarred hands and looked at me as a thirsty man gazed upon water. With longing, joy, and overwhelming content.

_Do not…do not look at me in my weakness, Salem. I should…I __**know**__ that I should be strong in this moment; that I should aid you in the difficulties to come, but I cannot. I have watched you dance with death, day after day unto month after month. I have seen you ripped, shredded, betrayed…never did I imagine losing you in an atmosphere of home and cheer and comfort. _

"From the moment we first spoke," Salem stepped in closer, and I inhaled her familiar scent. Copper, salt, and smoke, the unique smell of the battlefield. "I felt something within my heart that I had never understood. I avoided you, so terribly did I fear the reawakening of emotion."

Her hands rested on my hips and pulled me forward; her lips pressed against mine in a slow, languid kiss. It was a kiss meant to savor, to slowly kindle passion's fire and devour the body and soul in bliss. Salem alone had kissed me in such a manner, and I felt myself yearn to be closer to her, to feel her skin against mine, to touch the beauty of her scars.

My own hands reached out and tangled in the laces of her shirt, undoing them in trembling, fumbling movements. She allowed it and moved her lips down my neck.

"You are so beautiful." she spoke, her teeth grazing my skin, eliciting a gasp as shockwaves spiraled down my back. "You tear my eyes away from the battle and blood; you fill me with longing and a desire to _feel_ every emotion my heart fears."

The motion of my hands stilled as Salem kissed the hollow of my throat, undoing my shirt lacings one at a time as her lips traced the path her fingers had blazed, filling my veins with fire and my mind with a symphony. She rose again as the last of the laces pulled free, easing my shirt off of my shoulders and gazing at me with such love I felt my heart break open and bleed anew.

Her hands roved over my body with the lightest of touches. I could not think of never feeling her hands again, never seeing those silver-blue eyes glistening with light and tears. So I did not. I focused on this moment, living in it, cherishing it.

"Your scars." Salem's breath hitched as her fingers grazed the uneven textures of my skin. "Like a legend, a translation of your inner self. This one," she knelt and pressed her lips to the star-shaped pucker on my left side, where a darkspawn bolt had struck me during the last fight at Fort Drakon, "the consummate protector, even at the risk of your own life."

Her hands moved upwards, along my thighs, over my hips, caressing the skin of my back, where puckered lines of once torn flesh criss-crossed. "These speak of an unfathomable strength and determination, a spirit determined to live no matter the costs or their consequences."

"And this." she pressed her mouth to the oldest of the scars, the one on my right side, where Marjolaine's barbed dagger had pierced me and twisted. "This shows a woman who would devote everything and risk all she had for love. This, Leliana…this is the most beautiful part of you."

Tears spilled from my eyes afresh, not of sadness and not for pain, but tears shed for burdens lifted. I had been a vain woman once; I had reviled my scars and dreaded the mirror, cutting short the hair that had been my pride, foregoing the paints and powders that had defined my features, working long hours in the sun, letting it ravage my skin…doing everything I could to damage myself in my own sight…as I felt I had been ruined in others.

"Salem," my gentle touch on her shoulder brought her to her feet, brought her eyes to mine, "let me see you." I begged. "Let me see all of you. Please, my love."

Without hesitation, she shed her clothing, letting the fire dance across her naked grandeur. I gazed at the body of my warrior, my warden, my wife. I ran my hands across her broad shoulders and down her muscled arms, arms that had carried me through hellfire and sorrow, over, at last, the threshold of joy and safety and peace. Crimson scarring dripped down her arms and chest, painting her skin in an exotic, hard-won mosaic. Her breath tremored out as I traced over the marks from swords, arrows, teeth, claws, and torture.

"How?" I asked again, wondering how she had accepted what, in any other eyes but mine and those who knew her, would find disfiguring and horrific.

"Do you think," her voice vibrated through me, sending shudders through my core, "that I would wear these marks as badges of honor, had I not first seen one who bore her scars with such gentility and kindness and grace? That I could have learned to accept this without an example to lead me? If that is the case, you think too much of me, dear heart. You give me courage, courage to heal, to accept, to forgive and continue. I am the woman standing before you because you have been at my side. Let no other tell you different."

I wrapped my arms around her, clinging to the woman who had been my anchor and my rock, my savior and my lover…the kindest stranger I had ever met, and most beautiful, pure soul in existence. Salem had embodied hope for Wynne…only now did I realize that she had worn that definition for me as well. Hope for the human heart, the human mind…love personified.

"Leliana," her voice trembled with a ferocity of emotion no soul could contain. She guided me to the bed and eased the last of my clothing from me with a reverent, comforting touch. "Dance with me." she prayed.

And so we _danced_ through the hours of the night, our bodies entwined, our hearts intermingled. We _screamed_ for the joy and cruelty of the world, we _wept_ for the devastating beauty and sorrow of love. Her hands touched me with the spark of new life, speaking of forgiveness, of acceptance, pleasure and pain and passion. I returned in kind, pouring into her every measure of devotion I could conjure, praying to every god that existed in thanks and in hatred. We spoke of love in every language, we laughed and we remembered...we lived an entire lifetime as we drowned in the other's eyes. And whatever wounds had existed were healed, whatever fears had haunted were assuaged.

At last, shuddering, drained, spent with pleasure and grief, I folded myself into my warden's arms and let her cradle me, her body a shield against the terror of the dawn and the years stretching out before me.

"I…I love you, Salem." I breathed as my eyelids fluttered shut. No matter how hard I fought, I could not convince them to remain open.

"Sleep well, my beloved wife." her lips pressed against mine with the gentlest of kisses. "Dream sweetly."

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, needing to feel every inch of her skin against my own, for as long as time would allow.

"Will…will you be here when I wake?" I asked, my accent thick with exhaustion, my voice as naïve as a lost child's.

Her hand cupped my cheek and she kissed my forehead, protection and promise. "Always, dear heart. Always."


	45. Chapter 45

**Salem**

_There is a wound in the earth_, I stared at the gate to the Deep Roads, a hidden entrance whose existence I had never confided to my fellow wardens, knowing that this day would come, and all too soon.

I inhaled deep of the crisp winter air, watching as the sun began to creep over the edge of the horizon, painting the snow-covered world in a barrage of color that outstripped any artist's palette. The air around me held still, as though it wished to freeze time for me, to keep me locked into the waking world. It held me with the warmth and ferocity of Leliana's arms, whispering to me with her voice, the pleas, the sadness, the longing.

_Forgive me, dear heart, but this is what must be done_. I pulled my swords from their sheathes, letting my eyes linger on the image of the nightingale inscribed in the hilt. My ring had been made in that image, and it burned against my hand as I adjusted to the weight of the weapons I had not drawn in combat for a year and a half. _I could have stayed, clung to life longer, sentenced you to the pain of watching me become like Ruck, or Hespith, and I love you far too much for that. I love you with all that I am, with these hands, with these blades, with this heart that beats and pounds your name into my spirit and soul as a mantra of strength and beauty. _

I steeled myself and walked forward into the darkness, feeling already the sinister presence in my mind, the muddled voices of the darkspawn, calling me sister, calling me closer. I would not walk away from this battle. I had not succumbed to slumber, remaining awake to watch the woman I loved, to cherish her as she dreamed, to freeze an image of beauty and purity in my mind. My eyes were bleary, my muscles tired, and I wore no armor, for this was not a war that could be won.

I clenched my jaw and clung to the goodness of the life I had been given, the blessings unmeasured that lay in my hands, the strength of shoulders free from their burdens. The lines of Leliana's song from yesternight filled my mind and I walked ever forward, a lullaby my battle cry.

_**It's simple as the stories go, transcending time and fate.**_

_** It's simpler that we never know, for men are doomed to wait.**_

Waiting no longer, I followed the path that led me deep beneath the earth, where the raucous chattering of the darkspawn greeted my ears. I extended my presence, letting them sense me, not as one among them but as the one they called enemy, as one they feared, as one who had brought their god down from the Black City and slaughtered it, walking away victorious and living a life fulfilled.

I had become everything that they despised, something bright, something beautiful, and they would not take it from me, for life extended beyond the individual's breath. It continued in memories of those cherished and loved, in the minds of those who had been changed, in the hearts of those who would know sorrow.

_Do not grieve for me, dear heart_, I whispered a silent prayer as I struck out at the enemy, my blades cutting through its neck as though they flashed through but air. It fell with a gurgling rasp and the scent of vile, tainted blood floated to me from the ground as I stepped over its corpse.

_**Through all the Ages, men have sworn to let go foolish pride**_

_** though every generation born proves that all men have lied.**_

_Keep her safe_, I continued my prayer when the first awareness of pain cut through my defenses as a darkspawn bolt punctured my thigh. _Let her be happy_. I scissored my blades in a sweeping arc, decapitating the genlock who charged me. Blood stained my clothing as I moved deeper into the tunnels, but I did not feel the pain.

_Do not let her close her heart away, _I blocked an overhead strike and my shoulders shrieked as the impact caused sparks and tiny shards of metal flew into my eyes, _for it is beautiful beyond reckoning. _

_**A litany of hardened hearts did bring about this end,**_

_** our sep'rate, bloodied, equal parts, once riven never mend.**_

A line of fire opened across my arm and once more the warmth of blood coated my skin. I cut down the genlock whose blade had scored my skin and kicked it into the wall, smiling in triumph as it slid to the cold of the floor, never to rise again, never to harm another.

_Protect her_, I asked the god who had chosen Leliana. I staggered as I dodged a blow for my midriff, but recovered and drove my main hand sword through the hurlock's gut, twisting and ripping up and out. I paused to breathe as the acrid scent of sulfur bloomed around me and a shriek appeared, striking out with its clawed hands. The razor sharp talons caught the backs of my shoulders and flung me to the ground, ripping away flesh and tearing through muscle.

I pushed myself up, unable to keep the smile from my face, knowing that I would perish as a woman who had fought for peace, and achieved that goal. That I had loved a wounded heart, been loved in return, and that love had made us whole.

_**This tale of failure, tale of loss, can be laid at our feet.**_

_** Divine and mortal shall not cross; the two can never meet.**_

I cut down the shriek with two hacking blows, though my wounded, flayed back protested the movement. I entered a small chamber, watching as my enemies gathered around me, thinking their victory complete. Little did they know, I could not be defeated. I had known the outcome of this battle, and I had already won every war I intended to fight.

_This is a formality_, I struck out as a brave genlock tried its luck, only to fall beneath my blades. _A tradition of honor and respect. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. In life…_I remembered my revelation in the Frostback mountains, my reconciliation with the warden's flawed creed, and my heart calmed as heavy footsteps echoed behind me…_**love**_.

All feeling faded as I heard the tell-tale sound of punctured flesh. I paused, thoughts blurring, wondering why I could no longer feel my legs before they gave way, leaving me on my knees, gasping, holding myself up by my swords.

Inside my mind I could hear the bubbling laughter of the darkspawn. I stared down at my chest, at the blade protruding from above my heart. Time slowed and blood filled my mouth with the familiar taste of copper and salt. The enemy behind me wrenched backward, releasing his weapon with a sickening squelch.

I fell forward onto the ground, embracing the earth, a sword gripped in each hand, bleeding my last blood into the land that I loved. I struggled to keep my eyes open to see the ever-fading lines of the nightingale on my sword.

I inhaled for what my body knew was the last time, savoring the feel of pressure in my lungs, before, at last, forgiving fate the final time. The last verse of my bard's lullaby drifted through my mind, singing me to peaceful sleep.

_**And children say "it isn't so," while playing in Time's stream,**_

_** but gods locked heaven long ago, lest mortals dare to dream. **_

I parted my lips and tasted blood and dirt and _life. _"Love…you…Leli…ana."


	46. Chapter 46

**Leliana**

I woke to the chill of the winter sun kissing my cheek. I curled tighter into myself, attempting to preserve the heat, shivering slightly as tired muscles stretched. I felt as though I had been beaten, slogged through miles of mountain trails, swum rivers of interminable length. Without thought, I reached across the bed, seeking the comforting touch that I knew would be there when I opened my eyes.

_A silver-blue sunrise of beauty and hope, a precious moment between two scarred hearts, who managed to sand down their fractured edges and stitch themselves to each other. _

Fear forced my eyes open as I felt the emptiness beside me, the cold of the sheets, the vacant space where once had dwelt comfort, strength, and love. I opened my eyes, surveying before me what had to have been the cruelest of tricks, the most devastating of lies ever told me.

I stared at the vacant place, the sheets still wrinkled from where she had rested, the pillow…_the __**fucking**__ pillow!_

On the pillow lay a bouquet of Andraste's Grace…in the middle of winter. I stared at the perfect flowers, the deep green of their steams and bloom of their petals defying the season of desolation and death.

Tears, tears that would never end, that could not run dry, spilled over my eyes and for the first time inside the walls of this keep, I felt as a stranger. I had no anchor any longer, nothing to tether me to this world and she had…she had…

"You promised." I whimpered, clutching at the empty sheets, digging my fingers into the mattress until my knuckles turned white, praying for a vestige of warmth, anything to tell me that I might see her again, that she was merely preparing for departure, that our lips could meet in a passionate kiss, that I could gaze into my heaven in her eyes and tell her…

"There is so much, Salem," I whispered to the woman who would never be there again, whose voice I would never hear, skin never touch, heart never feel, "so much that I had left to say. Why, my love, _why!?_"

I huddled into myself, naked and alone, staring at the flowers, a parting gift of beauty and peace. I collapsed forward onto _her_ pillow, holding the flowers close to my heart, inhaling their aroma and Salem's scent, begging to close my eyes and wake again, with her at my side, and all of this a cruel dream, a trickster demon in the Fade, toying with the minds of mortals.

My cheeks burned from the salt of my tears and I buried my nose in the flowers and flinched as it brushed a sharp edge. I pulled away and stared at the carefully folded parchment inside the bouquet. Hesitant, with trembling hands, I pulled it free, staring at my name written on it in Salem's precise, careful handwriting.

My lips trembled as I unfolded it, running my fingertips over the dried ink, the lines of her soul spelled out on parchment. I held it in the cold light of the winter sun, the frigid air of the room that was not mine any longer, for the one who had made it home had departed.

I closed my eyes but the tears would not cease, nor would my heart stop aching as it beat like a hollow drum and screamed, loud and harsh as a discordant cymbal.

_You __**promised**_! my thoughts shrieked, but I knew, I knew in my heart, that Salem had not yet fallen. I could feel her spirit still, vibrant and alive, warm and welcoming, the same sense I had felt below decks on the High Seeker's ill-fated vessel.

_She still lives_, I thought, determined to find her. I flung the covers off and dressed as quickly as I could, strapping Eleanor Cousland's bow to my back and pulling on my boots. I turned back to make sure I had forgotten nothing…my gaze lingered on the unread letter, the forgotten flowers, and my heart fractured.

_She_, I clenched my jaw as my throat tightened, _she does not desire to be found. Not even...not even by me. _

My legs trembled as I returned to the bed and sat down, lifting her letter and opening it, allowing my eyes to read the words that my heart did not want to hear.

* * *

_Dry your eyes, dear heart. I know what you must have felt upon waking, upon finding our bed empty. I know I made you a promise, and I am keeping it now. Though it may not seem the truth at this moment, I will __**never**__ leave your side. Do not forget, beloved, that I have gazed into eternity and walked hand in hand with death. Even torn from the waking world, I will be beside you. _

_ I am struggling to find words at this moment, for I am watching you sleep. Your lips are curved upward at the corners, though your brow is creased with confusion. I hope that you are dreaming of beautiful things, for that is what you deserve. I hope that I have given you all that you desired, all that you needed from me. For I know, in my heart, that even if I became a speaker of every language and a scribe in every tongue, I could never find enough words to describe the depth of my love for you._

_ At this very moment, as your eyes scan these lines, I am listening to your voice inside my mind, replaying the music that you made all the sweeter. Never forget, dear heart, that no matter the plans the Maker has for your voice, to persuade, to inspire, to comfort, that its first purpose is to __**heal**__. The first night you sang for me, my heart remembered what it was to be moved, to __**feel**__. I believe I fell in love with you at that very moment, for the third or fifth time, I can never recall. Please smile, Leliana. I do so love your smile. It is all the brightness of the morning, full of zeal and light and promise of the wonders to come. I have never seen a sunrise to rival the brilliance of your smile, nor heard a symphony that could eclipse the sound of your laughter. _

_ Thank you for opening your heart to me, for letting me carry such a precious gift and trusting me with its care. Thank you for letting me love you, for becoming my wife, for allowing me to experience the greatest joys life has to offer. I can go on this final journey with no regrets, and that is a claim few will ever be able to make honestly. But I have never lied to you, and would not begin now. Trust me in this, Leliana. I have lacked for nothing. You are __**everything**__ to me. _

_ However, you took my name, and you made me a promise not so very long ago, when we both stood on the precipice of eternity. You promised me that you would sing again, and dance again, and continue to live. I will hold you to that, dear heart. I want you to walk into your life and embrace whatever good things may come. You are my last love, my all encompassing dream, my beginning and end…this need not be so for you. If another calls to your heart, or another's hands tempt you, do not hesitate for the sake of my memory. I will begrudge you no happiness, for you deserve all beauty offered by this life. I know that this is difficult to think of, and that you might cast this letter away out of frustration and grief, but I beg you, do not cast away my last wish for you. We were meant to love, to hold another, and that need shall not fade, not even after I am gone. Do not deny a living soul in memory of a departed one. _

_ Live, Leliana, and I will live with you. I will build a home for us in paradise, and greet you at its gate, and we will walk in the gardens that know no winter, and drink from the water that quenches all thirst. We will dance among the stars and travel through the galaxies. We will have time, dear heart. I can promise you that; I can promise you forever when you rejoin me, many **many** years from now. _

_ How I wish I could spare you this pain, Leliana. I have never wished to hurt you, but we cannot hide from this, and thus I will not. And I beg you, I __**beg**__, do not hide your heart away, or sentence it to grief. You are too beautiful to lock yourself inside of tears and turn them to a diamond prison. You are more than beautiful. You __**are**__ beauty. You __**are**__ peace. You are more than ever I could have hoped for, and I love you with a ferocity that outstrips mortal comprehension. Prosper, my Leliana, flourish. Change the world as I know you can, for you changed me in the same manner. For the better._

_ All my heart, _

_ ~Salem_

* * *

I pressed the parchment against my chest, not minding that the smudged ink from my tears would stain my clothes. I reached into my heart, seeing the burning light that was my innate knowledge of Salem's life, my connection to the woman powerful enough to slay a god, strong enough to speak of forgiveness, brave enough to face death alone and without comfort.

Quiet, without hesitation, without faltering, without fanfare…the light went out and I knew that she had died in the very manner she lived. Humble. Fearless. Strong. A wave of loss poured over me and I buried my face in her pillow as raw anguish wracked my body.

A frigid wind blew through the window and whispered across my back. And I hated the cruelty of the world as a familiar voice, tinged with an edge of dark humor, brushed across my ears for the final time.

_I didn't lose, dear heart. I didn't lose. _


	47. Saying Farewell

**Leliana**

_There is a hole in the world_. I dismounted my horse, biting my lip as the tears struck again. This journey had been one of great difficulty. Every road, every landmark had some memory attached to it. A memory of her low, rare laughter, or lightning striking her silver-blue eyes. A caress in the dark, an impromptu kiss exchanged. Ferelden had her image stamped upon it, and I could not look away.

Her absence ached within me like a yawning chasm, and I wondered, not for the first time, how she had been able to carry the scars within her eyes. Always looking across that great divide, between mortal and divine…how much strength did it take to face the morning, the mirror, the scrutiny and fears of others?

_How much did I never know of you, my love? _I wondered as the doors of Cousland Hall opened, revealing the stoop-shouldered form of a man in mourning. _How much was there yet to learn, if the sun had continued to shine upon us? _

Fergus looked up and our eyes were the same. Red-rimmed with tears, shadowed with the hollow bruising of sleepless nights and once-sweet dreaming. We stood there, unable to speak, to broach the distance between us.

A loud bark jolted me from the endless stare of shared sorrow. Burrow rushed out of the doors, running to me with his tongue lolling out, his stub of a tail wagging for all it was worth, his one ear alert and erect. He ran to me and I petted him, scratching behind his missing ear. He sniffed around me and licked my hand, but his attention turned elsewhere, looking side to side, ear cocked for a familiar voice, scenting the air for the one he loved best.

Large, intelligent eyes looked to mine and the mabari's stub-tail ceased its dance. He met my gaze and a low whimper emerged from his throat as I shook my head. Burrow sniffed the air once more, pawing at the earth...giving up as he sat back on his haunches and _wailed_. The howl echoed off of stone and wall, a mute beast pouring out its grief in the only manner it knew.

_There is a hole in our hearts. _I knelt and flung my arms around Burrow's shoulders, inhaling the scent of warm straw and wet dog. Tears flooded from my eyes as Burrow and I mourned together. Warm arms wrapped around me as Fergus joined, realizing that he was not alone in his grief. That Salem had bound us all together, and now those ties were severed, and we were cast adrift from the one who had been so powerful, she anchored the entire country.

"They…they're waiting for us." Fergus spoke, his voice harsh with too little sleep. "I…I couldn't go alone, Leliana. You must think me weak, but…"

"No." he helped me to my feet and I wrapped him in a tight hug. "In truth, were you not here, I do not think I could bear this."

Fergus nodded as a servant brought him his horse. We mounted and rode away from the city, towards the grove of trees that housed the simple memorials to Bryce and Eleanor. My hands trembled as they held the reins, knowing that thus far, I had been able to pretend. Able to keep Salem by my side with memory and dreaming.

_But there are still untraveled miles for me_, I thought, for the first time despising the Maker who had chosen me. _There are battles to be waged, and wars to be fought, and I do not have her strength to shore me up when I am weak. I do not have her to carry me when I am wounded, body and soul. _

Salem's brother and I dismounted and entered the grove. Again, I felt the wave of peace from this sacred place, a place that had been dear in Salem's heart, that held her happiness and tears, her contemplations before the cruelty of life had tested her resolve. _Before she met that test and __**triumphed**_**. **

Two figures stood before the two…no…_three_ granite markers. They turned to greet us, Alistair taking a step backwards, but Wynne came forward and wrapped me in her arms. I could smell the salt of her tears and feel the heavy mantle of grief that rested upon the shoulders of the woman who had been a mother to me…and to Salem.

"Oh, child," she whispered against my ear, fierce, "if I could, I would have given my life in her stead."

"I know." a sob racked my body, from a pained depth that I could not fathom, nor see its ending. "Oh, Wynne…I know, for I _would have done the same_."

For a moment we remained in our embrace, balancing the weight of each other's grief. At last, the healer released me and I looked into her deep blue eyes, eyes that had seen too much death, too much suffering. Her hands had mended Salem's body so many times, her magic had sealed grievous wounds and brought the dying back to life…but this was an immutable fate, and no power, not even that of a Fade spirit, could return the dead.

Alistair remained by the new granite monument, staring at the five simple letters engraved into the stone. They said everything…a single word that had held us together through fire and torment, through torture and devastation. A word that had quickened our hearts, steeled our resolve, kept us safe in the dark of peaceful night and the unmitigated terror of battle.

_Salem. _

"I…I suppose we should say something." the king spoke, hesitant, reminding me of the young man I had first met in Lothering, who hid behind the imposing warrior who had never lacked for words, knowledge, and compassion. "I don't…where to even begin?"

Fergus rested his hand on Alistair's shoulder, a touch of a brother, a friend, a comrade in arms. "Salem never had much use for words." he comforted the king, who looked lost, and oh so lonely. "Always…even as a child…she preferred to act, first to stand against injustice, first to call for fairness in our childhood games…" he chuckled and pinched the bridge of his nose, "…first to the dinner table, last to leave."

A weak laugh echoed from the four of us and Alistair straightened his shoulders. He clenched his fist and placed it over his heart, kneeling before the granite headstone and resting his free hand upon it.

"I was the senior warden." he began to speak, as though he addressed Salem, as though none of the rest of us were present. "It was my responsibility to carry us through…after Ostagar. But I was _weak_, Salem. And never once did you revile me, never once did you cut at me with words…though perhaps that was simply because you felt sorry for me and the way Morrigan would flay my backside with every available barb." the king sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cool of the stone. "I knew the creed; I knew the lore, but _you_ taught me what it was to _be_ a Grey Warden. And, strange as it may seem, you taught me how to be a man. I promise, Salem, in much the manner you promised to see us through the Blight, I will continue the work that you set in motion. Equality. Freedom. Mercy. Even without you, the work you began…the requests you made of me at my coronation…I _will_ see them through."

The king rose from his position of fealty, a new resolve in his warm brown eyes, a resolve that Salem had seen as fractured metal, and forged into a blade of such brilliance that the world would be blinded.

I made no effort to wipe away the tears on my face. Wynne took my hand and squeezed it, imparting a measure of her strength. "No…" her voice cracked, "…no mother should ever visit the grave of their child. And I _did_ feel as a mother to you, Salem. You tried me, tested my patience, my resolve, but at the end…my heart could _burst_ from _pride_. Your light is so brilliant that generations to come will _aspire_ to it. And those who knew you will grow older still, comforted by the glow you have left with us. I know you asked for no fanfare, and no monument…but let me give you this, Salem. Let me give you this."

The mage relinquished my hand and faded deep into a trance, her fingers tracing arcane patterns before her, the blue glow of lyrium emanating from her body. I watched in amazement and awe as the blue-white radiance of lyrium began to form flames around the three monuments, springing up above them…a rampant mabari on either side, facing the double rampant griffon of the Grey Wardens in the center. A banner appeared above the crest, with but three words.

_Honesty. Loyalty. Peace. _

I placed a hand over my open mouth as I witnessed the gift of Salem's mage-mother, not only to honor my warden, but to honor those who had given her all her gifts, who had forged the woman she was.

"I am the last Cousland." Fergus whispered, his words meant for my ears alone as Wynne gathered her composure and Alistair wrapped a comforting arm around the grieving mage's shoulder. "And the least."

On impulse, I wrapped my brother in a tight hug, clinging to the man who had known her best, and loved her _well_.

"Salem would tell you to seal your lips, you filthy ragamuffin." I whispered past the choking grasp of sorrow still too fresh.

Fergus' unexpected laugh turned to a sob and he rested his head on my shoulder. "And you are not the last." I breathed. "I am with you still, and I wear her name. I will do my utmost to honor it."

Fergus nodded and extricated himself from my arms. From the look on his face, I knew he would say no more. Alistair looked at me.

"Leliana," he asked, "is there…is there anything you would like to say?"

I looked at their faces, and I looked at the granite stone, and the letters of her name. "She loved me." I whispered. "She. Loved. _Me._ I…" my voice shattered, as though I had poured fragmented glass down my throat, "…I think…that says enough."

We remained silent, staring at the memory of the woman we had loved, two as a sister, one as a mother…_she was my __**wife. **__I __**loved**__ her as I had never known love was possible. _

I let my gaze go distant, looking into all the memories, the beautiful, the bittersweet…the _agonized_. I scarcely registered the farewells of others as they returned to their lives and their own private grief. It symbolized so, so much more than a simple good-bye. The anchor had snapped, and chances stood that few of us would cross paths again. I thought of those not here. Morrigan, who had disappeared to Maker knew where, but who had loved Salem enough to give her life. Shale, who had been returned to her people, to instruct them in forgotten lore. Sten, who had hopefully rejoined his people, able once more to resume his position in their _strange_ society. Zevran, whom I knew would grieve in his own way, once word reached his ears. He had loved her too. And Oghren…Oghren who had remained sober an entire three days, too stunned by the news to even lift a flask to his lips.

_There is a hole in creation. _I looked up and I saw the tree, the one Salem had spoken to me of in the Deep Roads, that I had climbed once, in a dream.

Once again, I felt drawn towards it. I reached for the branches as thunder rumbled and rain began to fall. I felt as though the sky and the gods wept for the woman who had served them so well. Branch by branch, I ascended the tree, an insane hope lighting in my heart, that reality would play out as the dream; that I would see her once more, speak to her again, a last moment of love.

At last, I stood on the highest branch, overlooking the city of Highever, the waving grasses, beaten down by the rain. I brushed my drenched hair away from my face, seeking any sign of my wife, my warden, my peace and my home.

"Where are you?" I asked, voice drowned out by the crackling thunder and the sparkspit of lightning. "Are you happy? Are you healed? I…I have no knowledge of eternity, Salem. Can you even hear me? I _miss_ you. Salem, Maker save my soul, I _hurt. _I…I do not know how to say good-bye. Always, _always_ have I been torn away from love. Never has it been stripped from me and it _fucking_ hurts! Ancient gods…is this how you felt when I left you? How did you endure that; how did you forgive me!?"

_How do I forgive __**you? **_my thoughts continued when I could no longer speak. _You __**left**__ me, Salem! You have __**never**__ left me! Why now…why now?_

I buried my head in my hands and wept, remembering the kindness in Salem's eyes, the brokenness of her voice, one terrible, stormy night in Denerim.

_You live. I live. That is the simplicity of it. _

I held the ring on my finger as though it were the sole thing able to tether me to sanity. _Sing again. Dance again. Write music, quote poetry, tell tales. Live the life for which you were meant…_

Her words continued to ring in my mind, as crystalline as though she stood before me, speaking them in the most beautiful of voices.

"You were my life, Salem." I spoke to her, at last feeling the peace she had spoken of in this place. "You were the life for which I was meant, and now…now I must _live **again**_. This time...it will be different. I will live as you did, Salem. Humble. Fearless. Kind."

I looked out over the rain soaked earth, to the dark horizon beyond the land I could call home again. The land that had given birth to me and Salem. The land Salem had died for, and bled into, and forgiven its crimes against her.

"Very well, my Maker." I nodded, accepting, for the first time, all that encompassed my new destiny. "I will go. I will go, and I shall carry her with me…in my heart…where nothing loved ever perishes. I…" the words halted on my lips, until I recalled the ease from which they fell from Salem's, "I forgive you."


	48. Beginning Again

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

**Leliana**

The wide expanse of the Hall of Justice lay out before me. The light blinded me still; the echo of my footsteps rang no less daunting in my ears. However, this time I strode forward, no trepidation in my heart, no lingering sorrow for a heart left behind and a destiny unrealized.

It had taken time, rambling journeys of a lonely bard through a well remembered countryside, to reconcile myself to grief. The dreams that had haunted me, memories of bliss and longing, had faded to a sweet, soft ache within the depth of my soul. But I had grown accustomed to the pain, and I had forgiven the cruelty of a fate written in the hands of men who lived so long ago that their crimes had been long forgotten and un-mended.

_It is so easy to philosophize_, I thought as I approached the Divine's throne once more, _to speak of the mind and to say that death is necessary for the continuation of life. How much more difficult it is to endure that knowledge on a tangible level, to look death in the eye and realize its immutability. But, in the end, past the tears, beyond the dreaming…it remains no less a truth. _

I reached the stairs and bowed deeply, once again accepting my part in this charade, embracing my new destiny and calling with a heart beginning to heal. The loss of Salem would resonate with me forever, but I had learned so many things from her…how to live.

_As a servant. As someone willing to lower themselves in order to elevate others. In accepting my fate, my calling, I will become a servant to all the world, to lift them from their tortured loneliness and reconnect them with the heart of a god who is very much alive, who __**listens**__, who __**cares, **__who is __**giving **__and __**kind. **_

"Rise, Seeker Leliana." Justinia's voice rang through the Hall, cold and clear as fresh-formed ice.

I rose and looked her in the eye, realizing that we were alone. I had been given no escort, nor had my weapons or ring been taken from me. The change had been marked, but I knew an explanation awaited my all too willing ears.

"The High Seeker informs me that your extended mission in Ferelden has come to an end." Justinia spoke, and I allowed the faintest smile to quirk my lips.

I had written to Cassandra that I would be returning to Val Royeaux; that my time in Ferelden had come to an end, and that I was willing to swear a Seeker's vows and live the life so desired of me. I had never fathomed that the High Seeker would have crafted an alibi in my defense.

"It has, Your Holiness." I averted my gaze, knowing my role. "And I have returned, ready and willing to take my vows and begin the Maker's work."

"That is all well and good." Justinia attempted a benevolent smile, but it translated as a fabricated, cunning expression. "But you will swear no vows, Leliana Cousland. The Chantry has need of you in facets beyond those of the uniform's creed."

_Oh?_

"Pray enlighten me, Your Holiness." I entreated, beginning to feel a familiar thrill in my chest, the knowledge of a quest to be embarked upon, a mission to see through to its end.

"We have received word from one of our order, a Brother Sebastian Vael, in the Free Marches." Justinia continued. "There is marked unrest in the Circle of Magi in the city of Kirkwall, though I have stationed one of my most capable Knight Commanders there as a precaution. However, it seems that this is not enough. I need the truth of these matters brought to my ears, and, as misfortune would have it, those who walk purely in the light cannot often gain entrance into darker havens. Therefore, as such a task seems suited to one of your background and talent, I will send you and three others to ascertain the heart of the disturbance. You will remain anonymous, masking your identities and forsaking all ties to the Chantry, save when necessary."

_Live the life for which you were meant…_Salem's voice rang in my ears and my heart began to beat faster…with anticipation. _Yes, my love…I will. _

"Will those with whom I work be chosen for me, or am I at liberty to discern who would be best suited to such an endeavor?" I asked, tingeing my voice with a note of respect and humility.

Justinia sighed, clearly displeased with her answer. "In this particular set of circumstances, it would be beneficial to the both of us should you choose your own…the Chantry frowns on the arts of deception, Seeker Leliana, as you must have realized from your time spent among the sisters and brothers in Lothering. However, difficult times call for measures as yet untaken. It gives me no pleasure to commission you with this task, but the Nine have convened and decided that it is best for the peace and safety of Thedas as a whole. Also, speed is of the greatest import, so I implore you to choose quickly…"

"Seeker Lieutenant Kathyra, and templar privates Kestrel Ariyah and Rylie Camerloch." the names fell from my lips with ease, and I realized the greater purpose behind the time Salem and I had been separated.

_To gather to me those whom I could trust implicitly with the skills that will be required for this venture. Kathyra was first a bard, and now a healer; she will be invaluable. Kestrel, a former thief and a mage, able to blend and infiltrate the depths of the circle. Rylie, the consummate templar, whose mannerisms and vivacity draw people towards her as moths to the flame. Maker…the blessings you have given me for this moment…though I did not realize them at the time. Thank you. _

Justinia's brow raised, and her expression reminded me of a noblewoman inhaling the odor of the commoner's streets.

"You are certain of your choices?" she asked. "I will have you know that the two templars you named are still under suspicion."

"Even after two years?" I asked, incredulous.

She nodded, sage, as though her wisdom eclipsed that of all men. "The heart is a fickle thing, Seeker Leliana, as well you would know. Keep in mind, even with your somewhat flexible position in our order, that long absences without proper explanation _will not_ be excused. Those two have continued to catch the eye of trusted superiors and comrades. They bear watching."

"Perhaps," I smiled, too sweet, "such gazes from their peers will make them quite perfect for the tasks you have in mind. And better to have them out of your hair, no?"

Justinia pinched the bridge of her nose, and the gesture filled me with equal parts humor and sorrow. "Begone from my sight, Seeker Leliana. Those you have selected will be summoned, and you will convene at sunset for a briefing with one of the Nine. I have other matters that take precedence."

"Of course, Your Holiness. It will be done." I smiled as I turned on my heel and exited the room, the thrum of a new adventure filling me with a calm sense of joy.

_You do not want to get your hands dirty, Justinia? _I asked within my thoughts, mocking the woman who claimed to speak for the Maker. _Very well. But, be ye warned, I have seen the world changed from the shadows…by one who walked in them and among them, pure as winter's first breath. I shall be the same. You have ordered the changing of the world, and I fear you may find its outcome…different than you first imagined. _

_ Salem, my love, if you can see me, if you can hear me, know that I am keeping my promise. I am __**living**__, and I am unafraid. Thank you for that gift…thank you for all that you have made me. _


	49. Tomorrow, when the War was Won

**Leliana**

_What am I ensnaring myself in this time_? I wondered as I cautiously eyed the captain's insignia on my new Seeker's tunic. _A new title, a new rank, a new calling? There was a time…there was a time when I would not have had the strength to embrace this, or the power to state what I desired with such clarity in front of one who possesses more power than any king. _

I laughed to myself in the quiet of the room as I drew the tunic over my head, remembering the moments when I had stood beside Salem in the halls of kings and queens, before leaders and paragons, listening to the sharpened steel in her voice, wondering…_wondering how she could stand before them and say, with no fear of argument or consequence, __**this**__ will be __**so**_. _I so admired that strength, never realizing that one day…that one day I would be called upon to present it myself. I have been a follower through all things, my childhood, my years with Marjolaine, in the Lothering Chantry…the Blight. Now, I have been called upon to lead. _

A knock at the door startled me from reverie and I turned, waiting as it opened. A crisp salute fell askew as green eyes widened. I smiled at Kathyra and her lips parted in surprise. Her reaction did not shock me, until I saw the sheen of tears overtaking her eyes.

"I…I never dared to think…how stupid of me." the physician shook her head and brushed her hand through the tangles of her ash-blonde hair. "I thought…I thought she lied to me as a comfort but…lying was simply not her way."

Confusion riddled me at Kathyra's tangled words. "What do you speak of?" I asked, restraining myself from laughter as I thought of the series of odd introductions and reunions that the last several years had visited on me.

"For…forgive me, Leliana." Kathyra closed the door and wiped her eyes, straining for a measure of composure. "Two years ago, after Salem had been wounded...we, she and I, we spoke. And I…I confided secrets that I should not have, but she was so _kind_, and she said…she…Maker's blood-soaked breath, I am a wreck."

_Why did Salem never tell me of this?_ I wondered, attempting to control my bewilderment. _What could Kathyra have said to her that she would hold in such strict confidence, unless…what I saw in her face, the night she boarded the ship…could she possibly have told Salem? _

"What did she say, Kathyra?" I asked, eager to know anything of my wife, and what had been shared with my friend, as it obviously concerned her heart…and me.

"I kept the words close to me these years, not daring to believe them, thinking it was Salem's incredible capacity for forgiveness and mercy. But I confided to her my heart and she looked at me, and said 'Leliana never leaves something…but that she returns to it'."

Something broke inside me as she re-iterated Salem's words; my warden's hope and trust and faith. Grief assaulted me yet again, blooming in a familiar pattern of an ache in my chest and a sting behind my eyes. Kathyra read my expression and the joy in her eyes faded to a look of soft commiseration.

"And here you are." realization washed over her. "Though not summoned…oh, Leliana. Leliana, I am _sorry_."

She strode forward and wrapped her arms around me. The scent of herbs washed over me, pleasant and soothing. I rested my head on her shoulder, feeling a comfort from her that I had not known in the embrace of any other who had sought to alleviate my sorrow. She knew. She understood. She had lost the one she loved to an assassin's blade, the one who had paid for her freedom in blood and set her feet on the path that became her destiny.

_Salem said that…she said such words about…about __**me**__. I, who threatened to leave her time and again, and severed her heart twice? How is it that you were taken from this world, Salem? Was it that you were too good, too pure, too __**brilliant**__ to exist in a world of deep shadows and darkness? How many more could your light have saved? _

"It was _too soon_." I breathed, letting her hold me, no matter what it might mean for the future. In this moment, vulnerable, weak, I needed her understanding, her caring, her compassion. "Kathyra…I…"

"I know." her hand stroked through the hair that I had cut short once more, braiding it in the same manner as I had during the Blight.

I had not cut it out of grief, or lack of self-worth, as I had the first time, but to remember myself as I was when love first set its eyes on me. When true passion took me by storm, altering my life, giving me yet another chance to find the redemption I had endlessly sought since losing my soul in Marjolaine's hands.

"The good are taken too soon, Leliana. Whatever you may need...please, confide in me." her voice soothed me as though I were a patient under her care. She relinquished her hold and stepped back an appropriate distance, though I could still read in her eyes the same emotions that had swirled in them the night we parted.

I had prayed that she would find someone in whose hand she could place her heart. I had hoped that time would heal her wounds, but it would seem that the same fickle fate that took Salem from my side had denied Kathyra the peace of being loved.

"Are you all right?" she asked, full of care and hesitance, knowing that the both of us were students of emotion and expression, that I could read her longings as easily as she translated my sorrow.

"I will be." I offered a weak smile. "Given time. And time seems all that is left to me. What has happened?"

"So much…" Kathyra sighed and concealed her heart with a carefully constructed mask. "After our return, the Divine sent us back to the island. We found it much as you said it would be, a base of operations, though it had been abandoned…hastily, in fact." she sat down on the tables, searching through her memories, seeking pertinent information. "We found grievous plans set in place. A seditionist movement, sweeping all of Thedas. It seemed the core of their endgame was to insert select rogue mages into various Circles, and then, by assassination or subterfuge, remove the templar 'threat', destroy the phylacteries, and regroup in Tevinter. Many of them have been located and dealt with, but there are still portions of the code in which it was written that cannot be translated."

I idly bit my nail as I considered the ramifications of what the Seekers had uncovered. "Then it seems that Justinia's actions are not a moment too soon. Has she informed you of our new purpose?"

"I've heard rumors." Kathyra nodded. "But nothing to confirm them…until your reappearance and," she glanced at my rank insignia, "unprecedented promotion, Captain Leliana."

"Captain Cousland." I chuckled, pinching the bridge of my nose as I remembered laughing in the most terrible of circumstances when Sergeant Alan had informed me of the crew's affectionate moniker.

"So it is true?" she inquired. "A Seeker shadow squadron, operating independently of Chantry guidelines?"

I nodded. "It would seem so."

"Cass would be _appalled_." a smile quirked her lips. "She cannot see the world as we do. I requested transfer out from under her command as soon as we returned. When the Divine received my report, and Sergeant Alan's corroborating it…Cassandra suffered a reprimand unlike any other. She has...I cannot say that she has softened, but she is at least attempting to view a situation from all available angles before charging in with a sharpened sword. I know you can empathize when I say that our communication is…strictured as of late."

"It is difficult to continue to trust one who would have left you for dead and damned the consequence." I muttered, thinking of the times when I had done the same, at Marjolaine's urging and encouragement.

_But I learned. _I centered myself. _I learned that all of life is precious and sacred, and that the end amounts to nothing if the means are abused and left behind. In that learning, I struck down the second most powerful woman in Thedas…in that learning, I may have earned the right to lead. _

Kathyra nodded. "So many things have changed…"

"I am at _my end_ with this!" a familiar voice drifted from the hallway. "I was readying to leave for a deployment! Maker's blood-soaked breath, if this is another _pointless_ interrogation, I am going to lose my _mind_!"

I stifled my laughter as Kathyra's brow lifted. "Some things, however, remain the same."

"I am quite certain it's nothing more than a last moment debriefing." Kestrel's calmer tones echoed from the hall. "Keep calm, Rylie."

I hung my head and let my hair shield my face, wondering how the heart could vacillate between joy and grief with such ease.

The door swung open to a wrathful creature with unruly chestnut curls and snapping black eyes. Rylie's eyes lit on my rank and her posture turned from belligerent to the ramrod straight of attention. "Private Rylie reporting as ordered, Captain…" I raised my head and her jaw dropped. "What in the seven blackened landscapes of hell is this!?" she demanded, looking from me to Kathyra in bewildered wonder.

Kestrel appeared at the door, grinned, and leaned against it, her viridian eyes sparkling as she watched Rylie attempt to arrive at a conclusion.

"I think our deployment might have been waylaid." she said in her soft voice. "It is good to see you again, Leliana."

I remembered our farewell, when the mage-templar had said with such certainty that our paths would cross again. Such a confident, calm assurance had defined Salem, and the core of grief welled up in me again, as these beautiful people reminded me of my lover's traits.

"Well met, Kestrel." I swallowed down the lump in my throat and summoned them inside.

Kestrel shut the door behind her and took a seat, a canny, thief's grin lighting her features. "So," she leaned back and propped her feet on the table, as comfortable and self-gratified as a cat, "when does the war begin?"

Kathyra looked to me, expectant and hopeful, while Rylie muttered a sound of incomprehension and sat down with a defeated slump to her shoulders.

_Thus, it begins_. I cleared my throat, looking up as yet another joined us, her entrance unseen by other eyes. A young woman with gleaming silver eyes and indigo curls, a smile on her lips and the all too human expression of hope on her face. _An impossible task set before a small collection of those who would keep the darkness at bay…a task that would seem daunting to anyone who had not faced this __**same**__ situation, and seen those who faced such dreadful odds emerge triumphant. __**This**__ was the purpose of the first vision, to be with Salem, to follow her, and see that the world can be changed by __**one**__ life, __**one**__ heart beating with hope and faith and love. So that my own heart might be changed…so that when faced with the altering the face of an entire __**world**__, I would know that success is not out of reach. _

_ Salem…your love, your passion, your __**heart. **__Such a thing can never die. _

"The official briefing will commence shortly." I spoke, pulling a chair out and taking a seat. "But before that begins, I must tell you all of my true identity, and our _true_ purpose."


	50. LossLoveLife

**THREE YEARS LATER**

**Leliana**

I wiped sweat from my brow as I entered the door. The summers in Kirkwall were considerably hotter than those of Ferelden, and certainly moreso than Orlais. I had thought I would become accustomed to the change in temperature. I leaned against the door and took a breath, centering myself and calming the beating of my heart.

The unrest the Divine had spoken of had only gotten worse since we arrived in the city. Justinia's highly trusted templar, Knight Commander Meredith, ruled the Circle with an iron fist. Her reach was far, and her methods merciless. There were times I questioned my sanity, and prayed daily to the Maker for Kestrel's safety.

Our cover had been simple. Kathyra and I had set up a physician's office in Lowtown, the hub of the city, where gossip flowed freely from the hard times and generous, cheap whiskey. Meanwhile, Rylie, newly promoted to templar sergeant, by my order, had reported to Meredith, bringing Kestrel in tow as an apostate mage captured en route to Kirkwall.

I nearly killed the knight commander bitch myself after hearing what had transpired. Kestrel was forced to undergo a Harrowing…Meredith's standard procedure with any mage brought into the Kirkwall Circle, even if they were transferred from another established Circle. Kathyra and I had been forced to infiltrate the Gallows in order to save the mage-templar's life. An unskilled, untutored mage had little chance of surviving a Harrowing; it was why they took place when the mage had spent years under the tutelage of their elders. Kestrel had not had the luxury of proper training; it was by sheer force of will alone that she pulled through.

Since that day, Rylie had pushed herself towards earning Meredith's favor, rising in the ranks, listening to my counsel when I told her that the easiest point of ambush lay in a place of established trust. Kathyra had merely agreed, remembering the wounds both of us bore at the hands of one who used that same strategy.

I sighed and pushed away from the door. Kathyra sat at her desk, scribbling away, her fingers stained with ink. I smiled as the ever-present scent of herbs washed over me. The physician smelled of healing and care, whereas my warden had carried with her the scent of the battlefield. It seemed strange that I could find equal comfort in both.

Kathyra looked up, guilt flashed through her eyes, and she hastily covered what she had been working at with such abandon not moments before. I cocked my hip and raised a brow, having found her in this situation several times over the last year, and never satisfied with her answers to my inquiries of what exactly she had been doing.

Concern filtered through her eyes as she rose to her feet and took in my somewhat harried appearance. "What happened?" she asked, walking to me and placing the backs of her fingertips against my forehead. "You look flushed."

I relaxed into her touch as she moved behind me and began to soothe the tension between my shoulders with her skilled hands.

"Another riot in the streets." I replied, hanging my head as her fingers moved in delicate circles over the muscles in my neck. "The qunari presence has the locals set on edge. It was all the viceroy and guards could do to dispel the crowd without bloodshed."

"The guard captain, was she there?" Kathyra inquired, pressing her lips to the back of my neck, sending a pleasant shudder down my spine and increasing the rate of my heart for a different reason.

Our coming together had been a slow, hesitant dance. Kathyra had feared the re-opening of old injuries dealt to both of our hearts and I had struggled with the thought of letting another as near to me as Salem had been. But I had taken Salem's letter, re-reading my warden and wife's last wishes for me. To not cease living, nor deny myself joy due to her absence. Gently, with great care, Kathyra and I had begun to write a new chapter of our lives, and I had learned more of the world in which I lived.

There were many kinds of love…so very, very many. I had confused passion with love when I had fallen for Marjolaine, thinking that my devotion to her was born of a heart-deep connection…only to find that it was not so. That no matter the pounding of her name inside my mind with every step, no matter the intoxicating thrill of pleasure beneath her hands…my heart had been jailed, tormented, plagued by a disease with no known cure.

Salem had been true love; pure, unadulterated forgiveness and trust. Every one of her broken edges had fit against the chasms in my soul and filled them, binding us into a cohesive whole. We had been separate halves of the same being, knowledge of the other's life had been an instinctive beacon, no matter the distance separating us. A connection forged in paradise, a love sealed by the hand of a god. The love of which bards sang, and authors penned, and men and women alike craved with unerring desire. I knew, in my heart, that Kathyra had known that same love with the woman who had saved her, Giselle.

My bond with the physician was different, and well we knew it. It was love born of two souls collecting themselves in the aftermath of tragedy, forgiving fate and accepting the knowledge that life continued without apology. There were no heated, passionate declarations, no despondence in the absence of the other. Instead, there was comfort, peace, and the knowledge that those who departed before us would welcome us again when the time came. We both knew that our connection did not extend beyond mortality…and we were content with that.

"Aveline?" I relaxed into Kathyra's embrace as the furor of the riot's aftermath faded, leaving me drained of energy. "Yes, but I made certain that I remained unseen. That woman…" I shook my head, remembering the guard captain of Kirkwall from her time in Lothering, "…without magical skill, she must be the most singularly discerning soul I have ever met. She never believed me to be a true sister of the Chantry, and I know you believe me when I say I am an impeccable actress."

"I most certainly do." another soft press of lips against my cheek and Kathyra withdrew, seeming relieved.

"You minx!" I exclaimed, moving to the desk and blocking her before she could squirrel away her secretive work. "The massage, the questions…your true intent was to distract me!"

Kathyra sighed, knowing defeat loomed before her. "Why is your tone accusatory when you know you will get the answer from me in one form or another?"

"Will I?" I wondered, becoming concerned by her reticence. There were no secrets between us…save this _one_. "If it is so troubling, Kathyra, I will not force you to reveal…whatever it is."

The physician bit her lower lip, as she often did when perplexed. "It isn't finished." she whispered. "I…I cannot seem to grasp the last detail, and I do not wish you to see an incomplete work. But," she ran her hand through her ash blonde hair, "perhaps you can help me seek out whatever is missing."

Trepidation filled me as Kathyra gently nudged me away from the desk and lifted a stack of parchment. She handed me the sheaf and stepped back, letting her hair conceal her expression.

"I…I hope you do not think less of me…or think me too forward. It merely seemed…needed." she whispered.

_What could possibly make me think less of you, Kathyra?_ I wondered, looking down at the papers, covered from margin to margin in the physician's precise, careful handwriting.

* * *

_Men live by legend. Tales of heroism and daring drive us to greater achievements, teach us the fine art of living, and living well. They are built upon those who have gone before, whose deeds and names live long after them. Legends are the core of us, and thus they alter over time, providing inhuman examples of our best attributes, concealing the entire truth even as they reveal the heart of the matter. It is a cruel fate for those who performed the deeds we aspire to, to deny them their humanity, to cut short their experience into a tale or anecdote. _

_ We build the figures of legend into paragons of virtue and beauty, who have never known a hint of doubt, a moment of insecurity. We strip their vulnerabilities from them as time passes…we destroy them even as they create us. Such things must come to an end. Within these words lies a legend so great as to not be believed. It tells the tale of a woman who rose from death and fire to become the greatest hero of our age. One who forsook their high birth and took upon her shoulders the greatest curse our world has to offer, in order to bring about peace. It is the story of a mortal woman who shared our fears, our insecurities, our moments of doubt._

_ This is a story of blood spilled for sacrifice and honor. This is a story of a body scarred beyond comprehension. This is a story of a love that outstrips stars and encompasses galaxies, a love that caused one heart to embrace hell and walk from heaven. Listen and hear of mortal love, mortal trust, mortal strength. Listen and hear of one whose heartbeat awakened a silent god._

* * *

Tears blurred my eyes as I rapidly turned the pages, reading what Kathyra had written…every part of every story I had relayed to her of Salem and myself. Every heartbreaking moment lay within her words, every wound, every scar had been documented in precise detail. Our first kiss had been captured, our partings exquisitely rendered in their grief and tragedy. Her tale comprised everything, from the sacking of Highever to our last night together. Somehow, she had included everything, all of the tears, the laughter…the terrible cooking.

"There are so many stories." Kathyra whispered as I continued to read her labor of love. "So many rumors floating about that concern Salem's life and how she lived it. I…I thought it best that the true tale at last come to light. So that she will be known as you knew her…and as I wish I had been able to."

I turned to the last page and gasped. Salem's portrait stared out at me, drawn by a careful hand. Every line perfect, the stubborn set of her jaw, the crooked line of her twice-broken nose, the noble structure of her high cheekbones. Kathyra had captured Salem's strength in the set of her lips, though the corners of them were quirked up in the hint of a smile…the elusive mirth that I had so hungered after once it had been revealed. Delicate ink, indigo and red, smeared across the drawing's right cheek, the same, beautiful swirling pattern that had been stamped on Salem's skin by dragon fire.

I had seen many artist's renderings of the Hero of Ferelden. Each and every one of them had been beautiful…until I looked into their perception of her eyes. Salem's silver-blue gaze had been warped, made too determined, filled with righteous anger and a promise of unholy vengeance to be wreaked upon wrong-doings. It had been pitiless, hard, uncompromising.

_Cassandra's eyes,_ I realized. _T__hey had put Cassandra's eyes into Salem's face…and my wife was __**not**__ that manner of woman. _

_But this_…

"I…" Kathyra shuffled her feet, "…I can't seem to get the eyes right." she muttered.

"They're perfect." I breathed, clutching the ring that I wore around my neck now, acknowledging that which was past as I embraced what was present.

The expression Kathyra had placed in Salem's eyes was an overwhelming serenity, and behind that, she had managed to evoke the blinding love my warden had ever possessed. The love that had lifted me from secrets and shadows, the love that would but banish the man who ordered her family killed, for the sake of a dead friendship with his daughter. The love that had made her relinquish her weapons and submit to torture; the love that caused her to turn from her mother's embrace and deny the promise of paradise.

_The love that defined every action taken…love that blinded her and love that healed her sight. _

"Are you certain?" my lover asked, full of beautiful hesitance. "I…I wanted to create her as you knew her…for you knew her best, and loved her most."

"Perfect." I spoke through my tears, setting the parchment aside and embracing the woman who had given me a greater gift than she knew.

_I never…never…I __**tried, **__Salem. But I…I could never take pen in hand and tell your story. My words were so weak and meaningless when I re-read them. You deserve to have your legend relayed…every part of it. The moments of fractured sanity, nobility so unheard of as to be divine…the deep well of __**love**__ that __**nothing**__, not blindness, not torture, not heartache, not __**death**__ could drive from existence. _

Kathyra held me as I wept from the beauty of her gift to me and the ache of my losses remembered. "Thank you."

"I love you, Leliana." the physician told me, and my heart skipped a beat.

I gasped as the pain struck and I stumbled. Kathyra righted me, her eyes glowing with concern. "Is everything all right?" she asked, wrapping her arm about my waist and helping me into the chair. "Were you hurt during the riot? Is it a vision?"

I managed to shake my head, uncertain why my heart raced as though it would beat out of my chest. I strained to even my breathing as a light ignited in my soul, faint but powerful…an innate, intimate knowledge of…_what was lost…three years ago. _

"Leliana, what is it?" Kathyra moved my hair away from my face, touching my cheek. "Maker's breath, you're freezing!"

She raced to a cabinet and returned with a warm, woolen blanket, laying it about my shoulders. I looked at the portrait and attempted to tell myself the lie, that this was simply grief remembered, pain amplified by a gift greater than any I had been given.

"I'm all right." I assured her, though I clutched at the blanket like a lost, wayward child. "It's nothing, Kat, I promise."

"You are certain?"

I nodded, though the light began to burn brighter, with more ferocity, and the ring I wore against my heart grew warm.

_ What in __**hell**__ is happening?_


	51. Beginning from the End

**Salem Cousland**

"At last you open your eyes." a cold voice rang from somewhere in the tortured, blistering hell of consciousness.

Blurred lines danced before my vision, light swirled and danced and my head swam as the painful beating of my heart jarred me further into the awareness that something was _terribly_ wrong.

_W…where am I?_ my thoughts felt like knives against my brain; my entire body burned with the sensation of feeling reawakened in a limb. Breath came harsher and faster, tasting of flames and blood and ash. _What…what in __**hell **__is happening!?_

I turned my head, attempting to see something...anything. I remembered the peaceful fields of paradise, days spent with my father and mother, Oriana and Oren, making up for time lost in the waking world. Then the lightning and flames, the excruciating pain as a taloned hand reached from the sky and pierced my heart…

"Do you not find it the least bit intriguing…the way that men have forgotten their histories?" the voice again, brimming with power. "You mark the days and seasons and decades and ages, but have failed to seek the deeper meaning. We have returned, and there are no questions. Our re-emergence is not studied; for men walk around in delighted blindness, blissful in their ignorance, unwilling to believe that they linger on the precipice of great change."

"What," my voice rasped, hoarse and broken, grating in my throat like shards of glass, "what is…happening?"

"Change on a maudlin, epic scale." I remembered this voice, from a time long, long past, icy and crystal and cryptic. "But you have more inane inquiries, do you not? _Why_ am I here? _Where _have you brought me? _Why_ am I no longer in paradise?" a glowering chuckle filled the cramped space. "We who crafted mankind also crafted paradise, Salem Cousland. The curses we created, we can also remove. The parts of you damaged, your sundered, pulverized heart…'twas a child's game to repair the damage." the figure moved into my rapidly clearing vision.

A suit of scaled armor caught the glint of the light as it moved beneath a lithe, supple body. White hair had been swept back in shapes resembling a dragon's horns, bound by indigo cloth. A silver crown rested upon her brow and her gold eyes gleamed. It was a new form, but I would always recognize the face of the witch in the Korcari Wilds…

"Flemeth?" I demanded, attempting to rise to my feet, only to find that they were weak and scarcely able to move. "Flemeth, what is the meaning of this!?"

She threw back her head and _laughed_. It crackled down my spine like lightning. "The dragons returned, and no one whispered. Fear lit the land, but no one spoke. Too afraid, too set upon mortal goals to even realize that the gods had returned."

_The gods…what have they to do with the reappearance of the dragons? I do not understand! Why am I alive!?_

"We were first, Salem Cousland. The elves knew us first and knew us well, accepting us as their Creators. But," her brow lowered and her golden eyes gleamed with malice, "my brothers and sisters, too enamored of their new creations, gave them gifts beyond their reckoning. _Our_ gifts. Magic. Immortality. Fools, the lot of them. 'Tis no wonder that they were locked away, and Arlathan sacked. Severed from those who created them, the elves lost their secrets and became but mortal nomads, clinging to vanished relics and a dead heritage of when they were _loved_…and loved so uselessly."

It seemed as though my heart ripped open anew as Flemeth poured into it long forgotten knowledge. I sat there in stunned shock as she smiled.

"Yes, in answer to your myriad foolish questions." she leered like a predator. "You have killed so many of our lesser children; made your wealth from their hordes. Did you not even consider the notion that we built those who toil beneath the earth, solely to gather our gold and gems? We deprived them of magic and made them our servants, severing from them the thought of _any_ god so that they but mindlessly gathered what they thought were their own desires."

I reached for my writhing consciousness. "So…all things…all races…were built by the dragons?" I asked, desperate to know, for Flemeth never spoke at length but with a purpose…a purpose that had demanded she rip my soul from paradise and force it once more into a mortal body.

"Did you never wonder why the old gods took the form of dragons?" Flemeth teased, reaching down for me. "Did you never consider that this mortal flesh and form were but a second-skin for me? Do not try me overmuch, Salem. I had thought you one possessed of an open mind; do _not_ make me regret my decision."

I lifted my scarred hand and fit it between her weathered, _powerful_ palms. She lifted me to my feet, and a wave of strength poured through me. I looked around, recognizing the cool stone beneath me, the formations of rock overhead, the single pinpoint of light as I gazed out of the mouth of a cave and onto landscape of snow-capped mountains.

"You…you brought me back." I shivered as the realization broke me.

"With great resistance." Flemeth smiled and it chilled me to the core. "My sister…oh how she delights in you. With childish glee she crafted her paradise; with infernal idiocy she gave mankind magic, crafting the Veil to keep you precious, _precious children_ from the vagaries of spirits. And as the Great Game began she walked among you and chose one to speak with her voice, to lead humanity and the elves from the dominion of the magic you should never have had. How she _cried_ on the day when the Tevinters attempted to take down her heaven, as we convened and cast a curse upon mankind…the day the darkspawn were born."

_Then the dragons_, my thoughts tumbled in and over themselves like an avalanche, _have re-emerged…gods coming back to earth. It is not the Maker alone who desires to speak to her people. They __**all**__ have come back…for some reason. _

"Why have you returned now?" I asked, feeling an old flame kindle in my spirit as battle-song thrummed through my blood. "What is your purpose, Flemeth? Who _are_ you?"

"I?" her hands curved to claws as she placed them over her breast in a decidedly human gesture of shock and indignation. "You know well, Salem, that I am known by many names. The foolish elves had the right of it, giving me first the title of "Dread Wolf", for I did lock my foolish brothers and sisters away, and have kept them so through the Ages. But mortal minds melt, and now I am but Asha'belannar, the Woman of Many Years…"

"I did not ask for titles." I hissed, letting anger have its way with me. "If you know _anything_ of me, then you know that I have _no use_ for titles and _little _patience for those who hide beneath them."

Flemeth laughed once more and it echoed through the caves. "Well worth the time, Salem. You are _well worth_ the time it took to painstakingly reconstruct the flesh of your heart and cleanse your blood from taint. Very well then, child. I shall give you some insight." she turned and walked to the opening of the cave and I followed, staring at the map of isolated, desolate creation. "I am the chaos tic, the wayward god, abstaining from mortal creations and living my life as I see fit. I am the god of gods, reminding them who we are…what we must be, even if cruel methods are employed. Children play their games, and all is well and good…until they become too attached to their toys. The Great Game does not change, Salem. Should it ever alter, all life is doomed."

"Then why am I here?" I asked the question that had been scorching me since my eyes opened on this hellscape of life re-allowed.

"Change has come upon all men, and I must mitigate this foolishness before it begins." Flemeth's eyes darkened and the calm wrath I saw in them caused me more fear than the Archdemon's roar. "All sides are choosing their champion. Even now, the merged mage is planning his lunacy. It will shake the foundations of the earth, Salem. Blood on _your_ hands. Even now, the Dalish outcast is playing with mirrors, listening and _hearing_ the voices of her trapped Creators. The horned men march out in religious fervor, serving the god in whose image they were created. Even now, a champion rises in the city of Kirkwall, determined to write her name in the annals of history, for men or mage…we do not yet know. The Chantry sends out their fool, Cassandra Pentaghast, in order to mitigate a conflict they cannot _reckon_ the scale of. The gods are awakening, choosing their avatars, preparing for battle, and I am unafraid."

"You have not answered my question, Flemeth." I snarled.

"_Such_ spirit." she mused, stroking the scar on my cheek with frigid hands. "But a god has kissed you, and shared their blood, so I am not surprised that you would challenge me." she offered an indulgent grin. "I have but one cause for worry in this war so soon to come. My sister has chosen another, not a foolish, mortal idealist as before, but one who has been through the trials of flames, who has found herself torn by cruelty and lifted by…an _inhuman_ example of nobility. 'Tis she who keeps me awake beneath the moon, this bard, this creature of light and life. 'Tis _she_ who will alter this world irrevocably…if not stopped."

_Leliana…_my heart lurched as it heard my lover's name, and the ring I still wore burned against my hand.

"Thus, I have broken my creed." Flemeth frowned, deepening the lines at the corners of her eyes. "No longer can I watch from the shadows and whisper of unseen futures. I have chosen my own champion…the greatest hero of this age. _You_, Salem Cousland. _You _must walk the face of Thedas and fight a war on a scale not before dreamed by the likes of men."

My hands began shaking and I clenched them into fists. "God or not, you are a _fool_ if you _dare_ think that I will _ever_ raise my hand against Leliana!" I thundered, finding my strength, my center, the heart that I had _never_ forsaken, not even in death.

Flemeth raised a single brow skyward. "Oh no, Salem." she smiled, indulgent and practiced. "The most powerful pieces of these games are kept in reserve until needed. If harming the fire-haired bard were my intention, I could so easily see her dispatched. But seeing you alive…knowing that the one she loves so dearly, the Maker of mankind, could have let you live and did not…is that not enough to break the strongest faith? 'Twould break mine, were I mortal, were I in need of something so weak as _faith_."

"You cruel, conniving..."

"Decry me all you like, child." Flemeth waved away my words. "You live now, free from sickness, free from taint. There is little you can do now but fall upon your own sword, and such a thing, _I_ will not allow."

I straightened my shoulders, shaking, furious, but unable to do anything but stand before the woman who had altered fate and _hate_ her. I could feel the fire in my eyes, the ache in my new heart…and do nothing. All things had used me for their end…now would be no different.

_So now I must fight a god…again. Whatever your endgame, Flemeth, I will __**not**__ let it succeed, even if the cost is my own life. I have died twice now…perhaps a third time will let me at last know __**peace!**_

"I have always admired your acceptance of destiny, Salem." Flemeth nodded her approval. "And now, I must set you a task. A foolish young one flits about the earth, seeking its deep secrets and their own heritage. _She_ is cunning, my pride and joy…an ungrateful bitch, my Morrigan. Find her, Salem. Do whatever you must, but make _certain_ that she finds her search of three long years in _vain._"

I set my lips in a firm line, at my end with the whims of gods and powerful men. I had wanted a life, and found it denied. I had wanted the peace of death, and found myself ripped from paradise and born anew. I had…Flemeth handed my swords to me, kept clean and polished. I ran my fingers over the nightingale inscribed on the hilt, and my heart bled.

_To see her again…_for the first time since I had opened my eyes, a light entered my soul. _I can reconcile myself to this…to see her again. _

"Go, Salem, daughter of the chaos-god." Flemeth spoke. "You may begin your search in the hovel I once called home. Return to the Korcari Wilds, Salem. Return to where it all began."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**_ There is so much I have to be thankful for. Thank all of you so much for sharing this journey with me, traveling with my characters, sharing with me your thoughts. A special gratitude to Ellwyndara, Hotcutii3, Violent-Flames, Miranda le Ginger, bojangles25, and artsytechy for all of your encouragement and consistent reviews. Another special thanks to Heather Fries, and the wonderful playlist she left. Many of those songs formed the inspiration behind my work, so thank you for sharing them with me. I am truly blessed to have been brought into contact with such wonderful people. Great thanks to all who followed and favorited and reviewed, it truly means the world for me._

_As of now, the saga is at an end. I might be persuaded to continue the tale, following the stories of Hawke and crew with a few glimpses of the characters found within this series, but I might take a short hiatus and spend some time on original work. Tell me your thoughts, either via review or private message. If there is anything you'd like to see, I'll see if I can make it happen. Bright blessings and so **much** thanks,_

_~Raven Sinead_


End file.
